New Beginnings
by Hyperminimalism
Summary: Despite Cid's tireless effort to care for the gunman, everything seems to be slipping out of his grasp once again. Sequel to Life and Death
1. Chapter 1

**Overture**

It wasn't terribly late when Cid arrived at the hole-in-the-wall bar on the other side of town; the sun had yet to make its full descent behind the horizon. He hadn't been around those parts for quite some time, and luckily nothing within the general radius really reminded him of what he was aiming to take his mind off of.

He stepped inside the bar only to be greeted by the familiar scent of cigarette smoke – it had been a while since he'd had one. After everything he'd gone through, it was no surprise his mind had been so preoccupied. Whether or not that was a good thing, Cid couldn't find it in himself to care. He had a lot on his mind at the moment and wanted nothing more than a quick fix to rid of the thoughts that buzzed incessantly about; he headed straight for an empty seat at the counter to slide onto a stool. A limited number of patrons lingered quietly in the dull haze, slowly nursing their drinks. The bartender, a younger, blonde-haired woman with dark green eyes and a hell of a figure, headed straight for him.

"What can I do you for?" she asked with a smile.

"Give me your hardest drink - no ice."

For a moment, the woman eyed him suspiciously as she reached for a clean glass. She didn't bother to inquire about his mood forthwith, but instead, waited until she had a reason to talk to him again; his order.

"You seem down," the bartender noted, leaning over the counter in a suggestive manner. Cid noticed the blatant gesture and his attention drew directly to her budding bosom, threatening to spill over that flimsy top. "Somethin' the matter?"

Before fielding the question, Cid took a large gulp of his drink, nearly downing the entirety of it and wiped the excess liquid off of his mouth. His mind strayed to the recent events and the thought of it only urged the knot in the pit of his stomach to twist and turn. It writhed and pulled inside of him, worsening his mood.

With a sneer, Cid replied. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

The woman chuckled and smiled. He noticed her name tag, _Cherri, _it read but the majority of his attention remained focused on finishing the last of his drink. He didn't notice right away the look she was giving him, but when Cherri twisted his way again, it was obvious she had something else to say.

"I think I've seen you somewhere before."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah; you were in the newspaper a while back, after all that…Deepground stuff. Sig, is it?"

A small chuckle escaped him. "Close enough," he muttered.

"You're a hero, y'know. Why would someone like you want to come to a place like this?"

Cid pushed his empty glass forward and tapped the counter with an index finger to indicate his need for another drink; she got right on it.

"I guess I like to keep in touch with my roots…"

It seemed she didn't get the hint behind his short, brash replies, but Cid could hardly care how much she felt the need to run her mouth as he knew he would be far gone within a short amount of time.

"That's so noble," Cherri hummed. "I gotta say; you don't find many guys like you around anymore. This city's gone down the drain after the rebuilding." Soon the chatter faded into a dull roar, and Cid could barely see straight much less focus on what the woman was saying. Luckily for him, she'd been called to a new customer down at the end of the bar leaving him to the rest of his nth drink; he'd lost count of what number he was on ages ago.

Nor did he remember ever leaving the bar or how he'd gotten home; just that when he woke up he was in bed – still clothed – and in one piece.

The one thing Cid knew was that, as soon as his brain took a moment to process the information, his head would throb as though it was about to explode. He squeezed his eyes shut at the pain to tough out the initial wave; when that passed the first thing he noticed was a note lying on top of the nightstand beside him.

_Cid, _

_Snuck a peak in your wallet for the tab last night – only took enough to cover your bottle of liquor, so don't worry, I didn't steal any more than what was needed. Please take it easy after you read this letter and don't strain yourself too hard!_

_Cherri _

Small heart to dot the i and everything...

Immediately, the pilot wondered whether or not something happened between them last night; there was no denying the fact that she had an amazing body and a cute face, on top of just how plastered he'd allowed himself to get… No, that didn't seem right at all. If anything, he might have puked on her shoes a bit, but nothing more than that; his heart simply wouldn't buy it. His heart was somewhere else.

Even though the throbbing in his head worsened as every second passed, Cid couldn't help but think he needed to get out of bed and over to the hospital as soon as possible. Not even a full day had passed since the gunman was admitted, and he'd yet to speak to Vincent like he planned. If he had any chance to do so, catching him at the hospital, alone, perhaps – in his room – would be the best bet. Despite the excruciating ache ever present in his skull, Cid slipped out of bed to make himself look presentable enough; there was no time for a shower. He needed to get up and he needed to get there _now._

- -

(**Author's Note**: Hello, again. As promised, here is the new installment of _Life and Death_'s sequel _New Beginnings._ It is still under some heavy construction at the moment as I've been mulling over the best possible way for this story to head. Right now I'm not terrible satisfied with some of the hard details – some things are just bugging me, but hopefully I'll get over that and give you guys a wonderful story to fave and cherish for the rest of your lives. Anyway, enjoy the first chapter and don't forget to tell me how I'm doing; all comments – good and bad – are always welcome.)


	2. Chapter 2

**02**

"What do you mean he's not here anymore?!"

The nurse sitting behind the counter flinched and recoiled at Cid's irate tone; he was making a scene and on purpose, too.

"Sir, could you please lower your voice?" she replied in a manner that served as an example, but the pilot wouldn't have it. He slammed the counter hard with an open palm, nearly flying off the handle.

"Maybe if you _told_ me what I want to know I wouldn't _have_ to yell!"

"I don't know anything," the nurse said as she shuffled some folders around, "Other than he was released this morning." Standing up, and with a stern look in her eyes, she finished. "Now would you please leave…?"

Cid heaved a heavy sigh, completely oblivious to the fact that nearly everyone was staring at him – doctor, patient and visitor alike. What point was there in staying now that he knew Vincent wasn't even there? The pilot had no choice but to surrender, and turned back the way he came only to stop dead in his tracks once he spotted Reeve walk through the front doors.

"Cid, I just got the message."

"Oh, so he has enough consideration to call you, but he can't even mention it to me?"

"You didn't know?" the director asked; yet another shocking piece of information to add to the list. "I thought Vincent would tell you first, of all people."

As if learning about the bad news himself wasn't enough; the fact that the gunman had specifically left him out of the loop only managed to devastate Cid even more so when he thought things couldn't get any worse. But it would make no difference now to express his offense; he had already hit rock bottom.

Reeve, on the other hand, could hardly pay much attention as it seemed his focus was directed over the pilot's shoulder.

"That's his doctor," the dark-haired man said and brushed passed Cid to flag him down.

"Why was Vincent released so suddenly?"

They sat in a room where they could discuss the matter at hand with more privacy, but the pilot couldn't find it in himself to keep his cool so Reeve did most of the talking.

"Well, it is against our policies to hold a patient against their will if there is _any_ coherent reason that he does not need our care."

"And what coherent reason is that? We brought him to you practically on the verge of death. You can't tell me that Vincent has made a fully recovery since last night."

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I cannot deny the fact that Mr. Valentine was not in the best shape, but during the night he made a significant improvement. Any normal human in his condition would undoubtedly be in a coma or something of the like; it was his enhancements that played a major part in his recovery up until this point. Don't get me wrong, though, Vincent does have quite a ways to go before he can fully recover, but there was a noticeable change in his health."

"I don't understand; enough to _let him go?_"

"Mr. Valentine insisted. His vitals were stable for a good amount of time; in fact, from what I had been told and what I'd seen for myself, his progress was remarkable. He was keeping his meals down, well, the two that we'd managed to give him, which means his body isn't rejecting at this point. And he responded to the basic medication he allowed us to put him on. If truth be told, the only reason I'd want him to stay is to document his recuperation, but…"

"Then how do you feel he'll fair on his own out there?"

"Perhaps not as quickly as he would with our assistance; however, if he has any common sense, which I believe there is no question about that, Mr. Valentine will know he has to take it easy for the next few weeks. Because it wasn't clear to us at first what kind of condition we were dealing with, the treatment process would not be any easier to handle. Honestly, the most we could do for him would be to put Vincent on a myriad of different medication, and from my observation it seemed as though he was not too enthused about the idea in the first place."

"I see…"

"The worst case scenario might be that I'm wrong in thinking Vincent will improve, but nothing I saw last night and this morning during his stay here led me to believe that his health would suddenly deteriorate."

For a moment, the room fell silent; the tension was obvious, one could slice right through it with a knife. There had been enough explanation – for Cid, at least – to clarify the situation; now it was simply a matter of accepting it.

Soon they found themselves migrating into the hall after the doctor's pager chirped loudly, beckoning him back to his work. Both men exited the hospital, side-by-side at a slow pace. Overhead, dark gray skies threatened rain; it was thick and heavy in the air. When the pilot kept silent, Reeve took the initiative to sound his concerns.

"I can give you as much time as you need to recover from this."

"No," Cid interjected, shaking his head. "I've already lost Vincent…don't take the only thing I have left."

The director stared at Cid; the most pitiful, pathetic look of sorrow pulled at his features. If there was anything he could do in this time of need he would do it, for him. And that was the bottom line.

"Alright." Reeve nodded, though it was much more difficult than he first thought; he would have to keep his emotions in check. "I expect you back at work tomorrow morning."


	3. Chapter 3

**03**

"Nah, y'see here? This o-ring is losing its plasticity; the material is brittle now probably because of wear from the cold temperatures." With an index finger, Cid poked at the small rubber ring sitting in its groove. "It's a good thing we caught this before sending the rocket on a test run; that'd sure as hell be the hard way to find out."

"I can't believe it," the young man said, adjusting his glasses to get a better look. He was one of the few students, handpicked from the top engineering university to help assist in the growth of the WRO's new program. Under Cid's lead, they would be learning from the best. "This could have caused the entire shuttle to break apart…"

"Yeah, well that's how we find these things out. I know I did. After the dozenth time, so long as you're lucky, you'll live to realize your mistakes and check these things during every maintenance inspection." The pilot stood up from the panel and grabbed a towel to wipe the oil off of his hands. "We'll have to order another one, so put that on the list for now. It'll save a lot of trouble in the long run to check these things first."

From across the hangar, the door opened and a young woman in a white lab coat came shuffling across the cement floor. She wore her hair in a bun along with a pair of glasses making her look 10 years older than she really was; another student.

"Mr. Highwind, sir, you've got a meeting in 10 minutes with the director, remember?"

"Ah, shit," Cid spat and hopped off of the platform.

"I just put some more paperwork on your desk as well. I could fill it out for you if you'd like?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll be here for a while anyway. Just finish up here and you guys can take off."

"Thank you, sir." The young woman scurried back to way she came, while Cid headed upstairs to rendezvous with Reeve. He found the dark-haired man waiting patiently outside the room they were to hold the meeting in, and with 2 minutes left to spare.

"Ah, Cid; I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it."

"Sorry t'keep you," the pilot sighed, rubbing his hands down the side of his pants. "We're running a bit behind schedule."

"No matter; our generous guest seems to be a rather patient man." For a moment, Reeve paused as he grabbed the knob in his hand, smiled and eyed Cid excitedly before opening the door.

"There he is!"

Slightly daunting at first, the older, portly man rose from his chair with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. His suit was neatly pressed and quite obviously made of some expensive material; no doubt the guy was loaded, Cid thought. They shook hands – with a tight grip – and Reeve stepped in to introduce them.

"Mr. Goethe, this is the man you've been hearing so much about, Cid Highwind."

"You'll have to excuse my sloppy appearance," the pilot added. "It gets pretty hands-on down there."

"Nonsense! Why, it makes me feel even more confident to know that Mr. Tuesti has such dedicated employees." Around the large table they sat closely together near the end. Reeve continued from there.

"You see, Cid, Mr. Goethe and I were just discussing your previous employment with ShinRa."

"Yes, I quite admire your resilience in working under such a cutthroat bastard such as Mr. ShinRa – if you'll excuse my language. I heard they consider you quite the legend? Even after the mutiny they caused…"

"Well, I—"

"But you managed to put a rocket into space anyway! The final frontier…"

"It wasn't just me. I had a lot of help in the process," Cid explained.

Reeve chuckled a bit, stepping in to sing praises. "He's a very modest individual. Technically, Cid was the brains behind it all, which is why I couldn't think of anyone else more suitable for the job."

"Indeed," Goethe hummed. "Quite the tactful business man you are, director. I'm sure they are regretting their previous decision to let Mr. Highwind go even to this day. So many ShinRa employees had been taken for granted; my son being one of them. But I see this is certainly not the case here. You and the director seem to share a loyalty to each other – I like that. I want to know my money is going to be put to good use by people with good intentions."

"I must say that I am the lucky one here," Reeve began, "To have such amazing talent on the team, as well as a good friend whom I know I can trust. You already know that I, too, went through the same experience, and there is nothing more important to me than the ability to relate. It's why I started this organization in the first place."

Having been nodding in agreement, Goethe cracked a smile. The man certainly liked what he was hearing, that much was apparent. But he soon smacked the table with an unmistakable determination and shot up from his seat as did Cid and Reeve.

"Well, Mr. Tuesti, after all I've heard today I can honestly say you are a good man, and good men always get my support. Unfortunately, the process of paperwork is a long one, so I cannot make this official just yet. But I would like to tell you that you have just made yourself a business partner."

The two exchanged another firm handshake. "This is wonderful news, Mr. Goethe. I cannot thank you enough."

"And Cid, although I must take my leave, it was a pleasure meeting you as well."

With that, their new found source of income exited the room, but Reeve waited until the door had closed to express his excitement.

"I can't believe this… We did it!"

As happy as the director seemed, Cid could not find it in himself to share the joy.

"Ahh, I have so much to do. I'm sorry I can't stick around - thank you, though; our first major donation. This is unbelievable…"

"Get outta here," the pilot said, swatting him towards the door. "Don't let me keep you."

Halfway in the hall, Reeve paused but only for a moment to add a brief goodbye. He was alone this time seeing as how nearly every employee other than a few janitors had already gone home for the night. Back through the hangar and into his office, he found a few lights were left on; mostly the large warehouse sat silently cast in shadows.

Cid fell heavily into his chair and immediately spotted the paperwork on his desk. It wasn't too much that he couldn't get it done within a day's time, which was good since he didn't feel up to finishing it at the moment. To the right of the papers sat his PHS; the small red light blinked incessantly, indicating he had a message.

"_Hey, Cid, it's Tifa. Haven't heard from you in a while and I was wondering how you've been holding up. You must be so busy with work, though; Yuffie always whines about it to me when I see her. Things are pretty hectic at the bar right now here too, which is good, to be honest, but it's starting to take its toll… Anyway, I won't keep blabbering on. I'm sure there are much more important things you've got on your plate. Don't be such a stranger. Come visit us sometime! Alright, I hope to hear from you soon. Take care."_

The line cut dead and Cid flipped the phone shut. Four weeks had passed since his return to Edge and not one day went by where he wasn't thinking of the gunman. It gnawed away at him, constantly invading his thoughts and to make matters worse, there was little he could do to help relieve the seemingly endless anxiety. He couldn't continue on this way; not for a second longer if he had any say in the matter. Cid grabbed his jacket, keys and phone and left the office without a second thought – everything else would have to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**04**

When Cid stepped outside he was greeted by a brisk gust of wind that went straight through his jacket and deep down to the bone. It was a big change from the constant rain that fell from the sky for the passed few days, indicating that snow was just around the corner. But the cold temperatures hardly slowed him down. He was determined to get away from that place to somewhere he could find some peace, at least if not for the briefest of moments. The pilot didn't realize, however, that he had ended up at the same bar on the other side of town; nor did he anticipate he would be looking for _her _again.

His eyes scanned the small room through the dull haze and immediately spotted his target at a booth cleaning up the table. The moment she noticed he was coming her way, Cherri stood upright as could hardly believe to see him again and under such circumstances quite obviously illustrated by the look on his face.

"Cid, what're you—?"

"Are you gonna be off any time soon?" the pilot huffed, shaking now that the cold finally began to set in.

"I've got about an hour left, but I can ask my manager if he'll let me go early tonight. It's been pretty deserted anyway."

He'd gotten his point across in few words and decided he would be better off waiting outside only to slip back out from where he came. The few people that passed him scurried quickly down the sidewalk, huddling in their heavy coats and even then, despite having the wardrobe, they still seemed to feel the chill. No more than ten or fifteen minutes inched by when the door to the bar swung opened and out stepped Cherri.

"Okay then," she began, breath billowing out in front of her, "Where to?"

* * *

The sound of the beer can clicked and hissed as the young woman opened it, not for herself, but for the man lying down next to her. They had decided – upon Cid's insistence – to go back to his place. It was much too cold to loiter anywhere outside, and the pilot was not quite partial to the idea of being in a public setting; the privacy of his own, temporary, home would do just nicely.

"So you're a pilot, huh? I could never do that."

"Why not?"

"I am _deathly_ afraid of flying – always have been."

"That's a shame," Cid replied and finished off the last of his drink. He'd already lost count of how many cans lay scattered about the room, but Cherri was only on her second. "I know a gal like that, sorta… 'cept she gets sick when she flies. The stupid brat is always complainin' about it, especially when I'm the one doin' the flying."

"Well, I don't blame her. I'm perfectly content _on the ground _here in Edge," Cherri chuckled. It wasn't her first intention, but to keep their lighthearted chatter alive, she quickly changed the subject. "Where are you from, anyway? Can't be from here, that's for sure."

"What makes you think that?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, watching as Cid pushed himself up and climbed over her to grab the last drink. "You don't really fit the profile, I guess."

He waited a moment to answer, more focused on getting the can open. "Rocket Town."

"Ah, I knew it – you're a country boy. Why'd you leave home, though, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Business matters. I'd been through it all before a while back. Had nothin' left for me out there, anyway."

"Girl problems?"

"You could say that," Cid snorted. Immediately, the pilot returned to his position lying down on the bed, but this time he threw an arm over his face. "An assistant of mine; I've known her for a long time. It was complicated, didn't work out…."

Cherri nodded in understanding. There was no need to explain any further. "I see. And is that what drove you to this?"

"To what?"

"I know it's none of my business, but…getting wasted with a woman you hardly know that you met at a bar?" Their gazes met briefly and Cherri let out another small laugh. It was true and Cid knew that, but the amount of alcohol he had consumed made it slightly more difficult to come back with a response.

"Ahh, no," he sighed. "It's not about her this time, funny enough."

"Some other woman?"

"Well…"

"You're such a heart breaker," Cherri snorted and lightly slapped Cid's thigh. She took the spotlight again before he could say anything more. "Anyway, enough of this depressing talk. Let's for get about all that; you didn't hunt me down to pry into your business." She twisted to face him and jumped on her knees, raising the empty beer can in a toast. "To getting wasted with a perfect stranger." Their cans clinked together in salutation; the night would certainly not go to waste.

* * *

He slowly woke from his light unconscious state at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name.

"Cid? Get up. You can't sleep on the floor," it said, followed by the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder. He groaned softly and turned over from his side. A bright light, the lamp that sat on the nightstand above, burned brightly, blinding him for a moment and blurred the figure that hovered over him.

"Hey," she spoke softly. "Maybe the bed would be more comfortable?"

It was Cherri; he realized as his senses, or what remained of them, came creeping back. Cid could feel the alcohol swimming through his head; he knew he was still a bit drunk after somehow ending up on the floor and falling asleep for God only knew how long.

"What time is it?"

"Almost two," the young woman replied with the intention of standing up. "I should go," she told him, but Cid grabbed her wrist before she could make it. He pulled her back down forcefully enough that she landed on top of him.

"Don't."

"But you need your rest."

"Fuck if I've been getting any rest lately," he muttered. Cherri could hardly understand the muddled words that spilled from his mouth. He pulled her closer instead, snaking a hand around her waist. She didn't seem to mind the gesture and simply laid her head down on his chest. "So stay."

For a moment, they stayed that way lying on the floor; Cherri on top of the pilot, yet neither of them said anything. She could hear the rhythm of his heart beat accelerate and smiled to herself, wondering if he was thinking the same thing she was.

"Cid."

"Mm?"

Cherri lifted her head and slid a leg in between his thighs. "Look at me."

Their gazes met; his eyes glistened with a thin film of glaze. There was no doubt in her mind, no second guess she wanted to take against the thought she entertained. And she knew he could somehow read it like it was written all over her face; the gap between them slowly closed as she leaned forward. Before they knew it, their lips met in a kiss – even quicker did they move themselves to the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**05**

Cid had experienced enough morning after's to know that the night before was filled with some sort of activity that began with heavy drinking. It wasn't clear to him at first as he struggled to push himself upright, but the moment his head started to spin the details came rushing back. Quite obviously he had done the majority of the drinking, except Cherri was already gone; she didn't bother to stick around this time either. She had, however, been kind enough to tidy up a bit before taking off as the room was rid of the empty beer cans.

_That's right_, he thought; his eyes darted frantically about the room – the most important piece of information and he'd nearly forgotten. Not once did Cid anticipate that things would go so far between them. She was merely a stranger, and probably a decade younger than him and they'd had a go in the sheets after their second meeting. He couldn't think about the fact anymore as it only made his head hurt even worse; something had awakened him and he was determined to find out what it is.

A glance to his right at the clock told him if he didn't get up within the next minute or so he would be late for work, but the thought of moving his body was not so appealing. With little choice, the pilot rolled out of bed despite the ever present throb in his skull. It wouldn't be fair to his crew to skip out simply because of some poor decision making on his part. If anything, he would have to make the best of it.

- -

"Mr. Highwind. Mr. Highwind? _Cid_!"

The young assistant stood in the doorway waiting patiently, holding a clipboard to her chest. She stared at him through round glasses that sat in the middle of her nose; a stray strand of hair hung loosely down the side of her face. She cleared her throat softly once he made eye contact with her and stood up straight.

"Are you done with those papers yet?"

Cid looked down at the documents lying under his elbow; one of them stuck to his skin – they weren't. He'd been unfocused all morning and forgot that they were still ready and waiting for his attention.

"Ahh, no they're not," he replied, feeling slightly sheepish. It was rather unprofessional of him; his absentmindedness now affected her job. Deliberately avoiding eye contact now, the pilot scrambled to collect all of the documents while she continued.

"I know it's none of my business, but are you alright? You've been so distracted all morning."

What good excuse could he come up with for that one? It wasn't his job to daydream, especially about matters that were out of his control.

"It's just…I'm having a rough time right now," Cid explained; that was the truth, after all. "Listen," he said, standing up from his chair. "I'll finish these and take them to Reeve myself."

"Are you sure? It's no trouble."

"They're late anyway; I'd rather you not catch hell for my mistake." Cid walked passed her out of the office hoping to buy some time alone. In the hangar, another student worked away at an up and coming rocket. He stood nose to nose with a socket and jumped back as a spark flew at his face. "Looks like four eyes needs some help, though," Cid pointed out. The assistant glanced over her shoulder at the spectacle and rushed to his aid. Cid, on the other hand, was already half way down the hall to the elevators.

Alone again, the pilot wandered aimlessly through the corridors knowing that it wouldn't make much of a difference if he rushed the paperwork to its destination or not. Besides, his mind couldn't seem to focus on much of anything other than Vincent – the one and only thing he could think about for the passed few weeks. He hadn't realized it at the time, but he'd been roaming for a while before coming upon a section of the building that was normally deserted. One of the higher floors and close to Reeves office, only a handful of individuals were allowed up there; Cid being one of them.

It was too soon to be social just yet, however, so the pilot ducked into a hall headed the opposite way to stop and lean against the wall. He stuck the folder under his arm and shoved his hands in his pockets, letting his head fall backwards with a thud. Nothing seemed to help. Even when he closed his eyes millions of thoughts raced about, chattering loudly in his mind with no hope of silencing. They nagged at him, relentless, obstinate until it became a matter of forcing them out physically; he barely had a chance to completely lose his mind when a figure caught his attention.

Out of his peripherals, the pilot spotted a silhouette walking down the hall toward him. He couldn't make out many details at first, but there was something about it that struck him as familiar. Cid pushed himself off of the wall to face the approaching individual, squinting as if that would help any. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, it became all too clear who this person was.

"Vincent," he whispered to himself, closing the gap between them. His breath hitched briefly as his heart fluttered with excitement, fear and rage all at once. So many different emotions ran through his body that it was hard to tell which one he should feel, but he was already pulling and embracing the man tightly in his arms before his mind could react. They stayed that way for a moment, Vincent obliging to the pilot's sudden gesture without rejection until he noticed a few people coming down the hall towards them. Cid noticed this as well and grabbed the man's wrist, pulling them into the next empty room

"I'm liable to punch you in the face right now! Where the hell've you been?!" he shouted, _after_ having locked the door.

Vincent recoiled slightly at the Cid's livid response, though he seemed to understand where the pilot's frustration was coming from.

"Nowhere in particular."

"No…Nowhere in particular?!" Cid echoed. "Is this some kind of a joke? I was so worried about you!"

"It doesn't matter where I've been; what matters now is that I'm back."

"You could have at least had the decency to give me a heads up before taking off like that. Do you know how humiliated I was to find you gone from the hospital the day after we brought you in your condition?"

"Yes, and it was a bad decision on my part, but I can't change the fact now."

Cid paced the room like a lion stalking its prey; he was more than ready to pounce yet somehow managed to hold himself back. "You're really askin' for it, Vince…"

"You have every right to be angry with me," the gunman replied and began to wander around the open space of the room deliberately avoiding eye contact. "I'm glad I ran into you because you're the person most deserving of an explanation. I feel ashamed of my carelessness and the way I avoided you. There was no good reason to have done what I did, but I want to explain myself now. I want to try and make up for how I hurt you… You did everything for me."

Cid let out a heavy sigh; how could he stay mad at the gunner with such a look on his face?

"I want to talk about this with you, Vince, but we can't right now. I want to, believe me I do, but I've got obligations."

Finally their gazes met. "I know," the dark-haired man said. Instead of lingering behind, Vincent was the first one to head for the door. He walked passed Cid who stood frozen in the middle of the room, but paused when Cid added one more thing.

"My place…tonight."

The door shut in reply


	6. Chapter 6

**06**

He wiped off a few lingering suds of soap on a towel in the kitchen after cleaning a few lingering dishes in the sink. It was nearly 7 pm and the sun had already set behind the horizon, leaving a burning orange hue in its wake. Cid still hadn't quite become accustom to the nights in Edge, but he was more anxious about the moment Vincent would appear on his doorstep.

The pilot heaved a weary sigh as he strode quickly out of the kitchen only to catch himself pacing back and forth in the living room. He couldn't think of a time when he'd been so nervous, even going so far as to express his apprehension in a physical way; fiddling randomly with his papers or picking at a loose string on his shirt. As every second passed the sound of the ticking clock rang louder and louder in his ears.

_This is ridiculous_, Cid thought and shot up from his seat on the couch. The way his heart raced in his chest, nearly sending him into a profuse sweat was almost pitiable._ Get a grip!_

Blue eyes shot to the door when a set of knocks sounded down the entryway. Cid froze where he stood, unable to move though he'd been so antsy a few seconds ago. It took him a moment to gather his wits, but Cid managed to, somehow, answer the door deliberately in the most nonchalant manner he could feign. Their gazes met briefly before Cid stepped aside to let the gunman in; Vincent brushed passed him and walked further into the house before stopping in his tracks – the last time he'd been there things had not gone in his favor. It wasn't until Cid cleared his throat that the gunman spun around to face him.

On his way over, Vincent ran through his mind nearly every possible scenario that could play out between them. He thought of the best words to say and just how say them, how the pilot may react to his explanation, whatever that may be as he faced the man; every rehearsed circumstance flew out the window. Vincent so desperately wanted _something_ to spill from his open mouth, but the words were just not there. They were gone, along with what courage he came strolling in with. Luckily for him, Cid was the one to speak up first, but it was obvious just how tense the man was. It would be in their best interest, Vincent thought, to let him do the honors in any case.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

He had a feeling Cid would lash out on him like that, though the pilot had every right to. It was now or never; do or die and there was no running away this time. Even the deep breath he'd taken had not been enough to calm his nerves in the least, but Vincent had no other choice.

"I was scared," he said.

There; it was out now, and he got the response he was anticipating.

Cid stood there staring at him with a curious twinkle in his eyes, urging the gunman to continue.

"I ran away because I was scared," Vincent repeated, this time with more clarity. He let out a sigh of defeat; the entirety of his being stood naked and bare before the pilot, some kind of rarity for him.

"Scared of what?" Cid asked.

"A lot of things – mainly you…"

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you had put me in a position I'd never been in before. How was I supposed to handle myself? What was I supposed to think of you putting your entire life on hold, and for someone like _me_?"

"You're saying this is _my_ fault?"

"No." Vincent shook his head. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what _are_ you saying? Is it suddenly a bad thing to care for your friends?"

"I thought I was going to die, Cid. I had been through so much in such little time and was forced into something I didn't think I would be able to handle. I thought I would lose everything…" The room fell silent again as a frown graced the pilot's face. He seemed so angry, yet couldn't completely lose it out of respect knowing how hard it must've been for Vincent to make such a confession. "And, as a result, I made some choices that were completely out of character. I ran away because I was ashamed, and I was afraid of what would happen once I realized it wasn't the end.

He paused momentarily to gather his thoughts and continued.

"During the time I had alone, I finally began to make some sense of what I'd done; something I probably never would have had the guts to do if I wasn't forced into such a position. Now that I've made the decision to come back, I have to face the reality of it. It's no longer a matter of understanding and accepting within myself, because I'm not the only one in the picture."

Cid approached the dark-haired man and made a motion to take hold of him, but Vincent shook his head again harder this time and swiped his hand away.

"No, let me finish…" This time, Vincent forced himself to make eye contact with the pilot. "All of this may not make a lot of sense to me right now, but I do know one thing: and that is I've hurt you. Maybe I wasn't thinking straight at the time—"

"Vince…"

"Cid, please. Of course I wasn't thinking straight, but that's not the point. I ended up hurting you even more by running away like a coward, and I am _not_ a coward; not when I know I'm the one at fault here." His gaze fell to the floor despite the words he spoke; a nervous chuckle escaped instead. "This is hard for me."

Just as Vincent thought he would crumble under the pressure, he was taken by surprise when Cid cupped his face and pulled him into a kiss. He didn't know what to think of the gesture at first, still feeling rather disgusted by himself, too much to understand why the pilot would want to do something like that. Vincent could only squeeze his eyes shut as he held his breath. It wasn't like the last time they'd been together—not even close, though the occurrence had been completely unexpected. He simply stood petrified in the pilot's embrace until they broke apart, and Vincent immediately shied away again.

"This is different," he whispered, brushing the gunman's hair out of his face.

"Maybe a little too different?" While Cid had a point, Vincent still found himself at a loss – that was the one and only thing he'd yet to come to terms with.

"I want to get passed that."

"You already know how I feel," the pilot said and finally released his grip on the other man.

Vincent nodded in reply. Yes, he knew, and he knew damn, that was well for sure. The only problem left was him.


	7. Chapter 7

**07**

Cid sat behind his desk busily typing away on the keyboard, staring at the screen through his reading glasses when a soft set of knocks sounded against the open office door. He glanced over his spectacles and pushed away from the desk to face his visitor—Reeve, having taken time out of his demanding schedule to talk in person. It wasn't a frequent occurrence, but Cid figured the director had some important news to pass on if he was there and not a messenger in his place.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Not at all," Cid replied, slipping off his glasses to place on top of the desk. Being at it for hours now he leaned back in his chair, happy to take a short break from work. Lacing his fingers together, Cid placed his hands neatly in his lap and for the other man to continue.

"Good, then I have some news to pass on. You remember Mr. Goethe? Well the deal with him has just become official; the papers have been signed and filed."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, but that's not all. The organization is holding a charity ball in honor of our new business partner, as well as for our other generous contributors we've done business with in the past. The reason I came down here myself was because I wanted to ask you if you would come."

Cid blinked in surprise. He wasn't sure if he'd heard Reeve correctly. "A ball? You've got to be kidding me."

"I understand your distaste for the idea, but it would mean a lot if you were there. Your addition to the team is one of the main reasons why we're doing so well." Reeve folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorway; a playful smirk tugged at his lips. "You've got to accept your fate someday," the man hummed. After all, Cid was a legend whether he wanted to accept it or not, no thanks to ShinRa.

"Ah, I don't know," the pilot sighed, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "Those kinda things aren't my cup of tea…"

"It'll only be for one night; a few hours if you want to get technical. All you would have to do is show up, mingle for a while and meet some nice people. I'm sure Mr. Goethe would enjoy seeing you again, and I will only be even more so in your debt."

As much as he loathed the idea of dressing up just to hang around a bunch of people he didn't know and probably wouldn't like, Cid simply couldn't find it in himself to refuse the director's request. "I'm gonna have to wear a suit, right?"

Reeve nodded, "I'm afraid so."

The pilot let out a miserable groan before obliging reluctantly. "Alright, I'll go," he moaned, watching as the smile across Reeve's face widened. But Cid shook his head still in disbelief that he'd just agreed to subject himself to such torture.

"Wonderful!" Reeve chirped, moving out of the doorway to make his departure. He paused momentarily before taking his leave, remembering one more thing. "Oh, by the way, you haven't seen Vincent around, have you? I'd like to extend the invitation to him as well."

"Haven't seen him yet," Cid replied with a shrug.

"Well if you happen to, would you tell him for me? I'll have more details later."

Cid nodded in reply as Reeve eventually disappeared out of view. When the door clicked shut, he turned back to his desk and slipped his glasses on; fingers hovered over the keyboard ready to pick up where they left off.

_A ball, huh?_ Cid thought. _This should be interesting._

As busy as the day was, it only proved to get busier when the pilot nearly jumped out of his skin at the buzz in the back of his pants. He'd forgotten that he'd put his PHS on vibrate only, and pulled the small phone out to check the message that waited. It was from Tifa and she sounded rather insistent that he come to the bar as soon as possible. The reason why, though, she'd not made too clear.

By the urgency in her voice, Cid couldn't exactly refuse her request and rushed over only to arrive no later than ten minutes at the most. He was thankful that his destination happened to be so close to work, but home was a different story. Cid raised a hand to push the door open and stepped into the bar, not realizing at first the people – or lack thereof – that sat scattered around the room. He was bombarded by the fighter who sported a wicked smile, ready to greet the last of their party.

"Glad you could make it," Tifa said and turned back towards the counter.

"What is this?" the pilot asked, finally scanning the room to see that only the rest of the gang was there and no patrons. On a stool at the end of the bar, Vincent sat staring silently at him, but Cid's attention was pulled back as Tifa answered his question.

"A party, Cid--don't you recognize one when you see it?"

"Well what the hell for?" he wondered aloud, moving deeper into the room.

"It's been a while since we were all together like this," the fighter explained with a hint of dismay in her voice. "I just thought it would be nice if we could spend a few measly hours hanging out."

Had Cid known he was being lured into a night of socializing, he would have certainly taken a rain check. But before the pilot could convince himself to speak to Tifa, Cloud felt the need to throw in a word to the wise by cautioning him against it. Cid knew in the back of his mind that he had no chance of escaping and let out a sigh of defeat. If he had to be there, the one and only thing he wanted to do was talk to Vincent. The gunman shifted in his seat to ready for the incoming conversation, but as Cid made his way towards the bar his path was immediately blocked when two small obstructions nearly tripped him – Marlene and Denzel, having barreled down the stairs to greet him.

To make matters worse, during the time Cid attempted to fight them off with as much patience as he could manage, Yuffie had stolen his chance to have a quiet interaction by hopping onto the stool next to Vincent. And if that wasn't enough, just as Cid found himself free, the barmaid interrupted his train of thought.

"Where are my manners," Tifa said, wiping her hands off with a towel. "Can I get you something to drink?" Cid glanced over her shoulder hoping that maybe he still had a chance, but Vincent was already gone somewhere and Tifa continued to nag at his attention. He'd given up at that point, surrendering to the constant distraction. It would be a long night; that was for sure.

- -

For two hours, Cid sat uncomplainingly as the night drudged on. He even caught himself having a bit of fun until the moment he realized someone was missing; someone he'd planned on at least sharing a word with before the day ended. Luckily the cards had been dealt in his favor, his patience had paid off as the excitement began to wind down giving Cid a chance to sneak away for a moment. He excused himself from the conversation between Cloud and Barret to use the restroom, and crept upstairs with a entirely different intentions.

He wasn't sure when, but Vincent had disappeared some time ago from the bar, though Cid couldn't recall anyone slipping out the front door. He figured the only place the gunner could be was upstairs; however, as he searched each open room he came up empty handed. A bit disappointed, Cid knew he would see the man again—that is, if he decided to stick around this time—and headed towards the stairs. He unthinkingly passed the kids' room on his right, but something grabbed his attention and drew him back to take a second glance. Inside, Vincent stood facing the wall, examining the drawings that hung neatly together.

Cid slipped through the doorway into the dark room and brushed passed Vincent where he stopped near the window that overlooked the city.

"Got tired of all the excitement?"

"I'm not much for social gatherings," the gunman replied, never once turning to make eye contact.

"That's a shame, 'cause Reeve wanted me to pass on some information to you." When he knew he had Vincent's attention even with his back still turned, Cid continued. As expected, Vincent reacted just the way Cid thought he would, like he had earlier. "There's no bothering to get out of it, though. I already agreed to show up and you know this ain't my thing."

"I see…"

"Anyway," the pilot sighed. He turned away from the window now to face the bed. On it laid a teddy bear which he picked up to inspect; he would need something to distract himself for what was about to come out of his mouth. "I was hoping you'd say yes. Y'know, so I don't have to be on my own with a bunch of stuffy, highbrow socialites…and Yuffie."

Vincent chuckled just picturing it. It was the first time Cid had heard him laugh in quite a while, and it was music to his ears.

"That would be rather rude of me."

"You owe me one anyway, so I expect you to be there; even then, you'd catch hell from Reeve if you don't show."

Nodding, Vincent cleared his throat to reply. "We'll see," he said. Their eyes finally met and a heavy silence blanketed the room. Only the moonlight through the window allowed for any illumination, but even in the darkness a slight unease in the atmosphere made itself present. The bout of awkwardness was soon invaded by a third party, Tifa, who waltzed into the room to find them staring at each other. Both Cid and Vincent immediately focused their attention on her, thankful for the interim disruption.

"There you guys are," she huffed. "We've been looking all over for you."

Vincent was the first to leave the room, but not before shooting a glance over his shoulder that Cid duly noted. He wasn't sure what Vincent meant by it, if anything at all, yet lingered in the room to put some time between them. Whatever had just happened seemed all the more significant as he considered every possible answer. Cid knew that it certainly was not the time or the place to be mulling over what might've been nothing at all, and quickly joined the rest of the party downstairs.


	8. Chapter 8

(**WARNING**: _This chapter contains heavy yaoi and and explicit illustration of an adult situation. Please refrain from reading if you are underage or do not condone male/male relations._)

* * *

**08**

Cid stood in the lobby just out of the way of the sea of people shuffling by. Everyone there came fully clad in the most expensive garments and accessories they could find for the evening; precious jewels and priceless fabrics. But for one night the pilot could say he fit right in. As much as he wished he didn't have to, Cid went out and purchased his own get up for the night's event. He had to admit, however, that he looked rather suave in the tuxedo the girl picked out for him at the shop. When he put it on for a second time and as the night progressed, it seemed to irritate him even more. He nervously pulled at his collar as though it were choking him, and tugged on the sleeves of the white, long-sleeved button up shirt that poked just barely out from the arms of the black blazer. Cid couldn't help but wiggle uncomfortably there beside the wall, but his concern was not so much about whether anyone would notice. No, he was waiting for someone; waiting in anticipation that they would show.

Sighing, the pilot began to pace as time crept by slowly. He shoved his hands in his pockets, jingling his car keys and glanced at the entrance every once and a while in hopes that he would see that face appear through the crowd. No such luck, though, and Cid went back to gait about what little area he had.

Perhaps Vincent wouldn't show after all? It wouldn't be unlike the gunman, anyway. Not even he wanted to be there wearing a stupid suit that was uncomfortable and way too expensive, but Cid had laid his heart on the line the night before. He figured he might as well have gotten on his knees and pulled at Vincent's legs, which wouldn't have been far off from what he did instead. Or maybe he was merely thinking too much; getting ahead of himself. Of course, this was stupid; acting like a teenager on prom night…

Again, the pilot sighed yet heavier this time. He brought one hand from out of his pocket, thrust his arm forward to pull his sleeve back and checked the time. He would have to make a decision sooner or later seeing as how it was already 40 minutes passed seating. And although he would be willing to wait a bit longer, the party wouldn't. Just as Cid was about to make up his mind, a familiar face, though not the one he particularly wanted to see, ran towards him. Dressed in a green, floral-patterned yukata, he nearly mistook the charming young girl for another until he recognized it was Yuffie.

"Y'know, for a loud-mouth, offensive geezer like yourself, you really clean up nicely."

Cid flashed the girl a momentary glare before taking one more look at the entryway with one last hope—nothing, of course.

"Yeah, thanks" he grumbled, not feeling up for a fight.

"What're you doin' out here, anyway?" she asked. It wasn't hard to see that he was preoccupied, but with what Yuffie couldn't exactly pinpoint, or care about for that matter. She had come with a message. "Reeve's been looking for you. You should let him know you're here."

Obligated now, Cid convinced himself to use the excuse as a means to get in gear and into the party. He figured he would see Vincent later anyway and finally stepped through the doors into the grand hall. At first glance, the room seemed a little over the top with its high ceiling, crystal chandeliers and tasteful decorations, but when he took a second look at his company that swarmed about, he remembered why.

From across the room Cid spotted Reeve to the right near the stage surrounded by a group of people. Reluctantly, the pilot would join them, but he would have to fit in if he was going to survive the night. In a swagger, Cid came upon them only to be spotted by Reeve who broke apart from the group to greet him.

"There he is!" the director said with a smile. He held a glass of champagne in one hand and guided Cid towards them with the other. "Just the man I wanted to see. Cid, you remember Mr. Goethe?" Nodding, the older man shook his hand. "This is his wife Vivienne and eldest daughter, Meredith. And over here we have Mrs. Sonya Hartwell, the mayor's wife, although we're not entirely sure where Mr. Hartwell is at the moment. Everyone, this is the man I've been telling you so much about—Cid Highwind."

Quite assertively, Mrs. Hartwell extended her gloved hand, which Cid shook lightly. He was surprised by the audacity of her greeting and tried to resist from reeling back too much when she stepped awfully close to him.

"Well, Mr. Highwind, I must say that it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Mr. Tuesti has only sung your praises and I've just been dying to make your acquaintance for myself."

"Ah, yeah," he replied, unsure of how to counter such obvious amorous advances. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too."

"Forgive me for being so forward, but I have to mention that the picture in the paper certainly does not do you any justice." Cid frowned slightly to himself when he saw the way she batted those long lashes And the dastardly smirk she wore was just too much. No one else they had. As if the night couldn't get any worse; still no Vincent and now he had a cougar hot on his trail. Even as he tried to think of a plan, there wasn't much he could do being morally contracted.

_Drinks. Drinks are in order!_

"Can I…get anyone anything to drink?" he asked, interrupting their small talk. At least it would get him away for a few moments to give him enough time to take a quick breather. What he would do with the rest of the night was a matter left to the Gods.

- -

One measly hour and a half later, from the moment he walked into the building, and Cid was more than ready to go home. It didn't even have to be home, but certainly any other place than there. He had been seated finally, away from the prowling old woman thankfully, but just one table next to Yuffie. In any other situation, it would've been painful, though not as much as he imagined it could be as the young girl seemed more interested in conversation with the young man next to her. Nearly the entirety of guests in the room had taken their seats, save for a few servers who navigated the sea of tables with ease. Only moments later did the microphone cringle to life, catching everyone's attention.

The roar of conversation died down quickly as all eyes locked on the man on the stage standing behind the podium. Reeve cleared his throat before kicking things off and leaned in close to the microphone to speak.

"I apologize for interrupting, but if I could have your attention please. I would like to welcome everyone to the World Restoration Organization's very first—and possibly annual—charity ball."

As if on cue, the room erupted into applause, though it only lasted for a moment; Reeve continued off the tail end.

"As the director of this organization, I must say that it is a pleasure to see how much support we have here with us tonight. And with that support, we can continue on with our present and future goals, but I do believe there are some individuals deserving of thanks." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and picked up where he left off on the next card. "First and foremost, I want to thank Mr. Goethe, a generous man who has just become our newest, and hopefully long-term, business partner with his generous donation. I cannot thank you enough for the interest you have shown in this company. Together, we can move forward and put funding to good use to help reverse the err this world has succumb to, and restore the prestige we once took so much pride in. You've shown your belief in me, in the community we share here, and we will not let you down."

From his seat, Mr. Goethe raised his glass as Reeve kept on.

"Secondly, I'd like to thank the man whose financial support made tonight's occasion possible—Mayor Hartwell." Again, more applause but the director continued. "And also his wife Sonya for planning every detail. You've done a magnificent job, Sonya. This time you've truly outdone yourself."

At that point, Cid couldn't help but lose his train of thought as Reeve carried on naming and thanking the last few individuals. He couldn't help but feel the urge to creep out of those doors and simply head home for the night. Of course, Reeve would have his head on a silver platter for thinking something like that, though he wouldn't actually do it; not at a time like that, anyway.

"…And last but not least, there is someone I've been meaning to thank properly, yet I couldn't find the right way to do it until now. He's a man you've probably all heard about at some point or another, whose become somewhat of a hero in this city—Cid Highwind."

The sound of his named echoed in the back of his mind and Cid frowned to himself. Had his ears deceived him? Someone was calling his name. Just when the pilot realized that all eyes were on him, he felt his heart begin to beat again and beat _fast_.

"I hate to put you in the spotlight anymore than you already are, but I couldn't leave you out."

Cid felt someone slap his arm from behind; Yuffie had leaned over and was cheering him on to stand up. This time it was beyond unenthusiastic, but he stood anyway.

"As many of you know, Cid is a slightly new addition to our team, and one of the best at that. I keep wondering to myself what I would be doing if you hadn't agreed to accept my offer; most likely searching for another pilot to fill your shoes, though I'm not sure I'd be very successful." A simultaneous chuckle echoed about the room. "Anyway, he's staring daggers at me so I'll make this quick. We've been through a lot together in these passed few years, and you've proven time and time again that you would give the shirt off your back should anyone ask for it. It's been quite an honor working with you, Cid, and I hope there will be many more years to come." Raising his own glass now, Reeve led the rest of the room to as well. Just as quickly as the spotlight was on him, he stood lingering in the shadows again. "Thank you."

Applause erupted simultaneously, and just as quickly as he'd been put in the spotlight, Cid remained standing next to his table in the shadows once again. Everything happened so quickly. They hoarded around him like a mass of prey coming to feed on their kill. So many people surrounded him now wishing to shake his hand and all thanks to Reeve's little speech. He could hardly find it in himself to be angry about it, though. It was much harder to breathe than anything else. Before the pilot could no longer take it, he excused himself and slithered his way out of the crowd, desperately searching for the nearest exit; a door on the other side of the room led him to a corridor that took him outside.

He thrust the door open with an incredible force and it slammed hard against the brick wall behind it. Gliding down a few steps, the pilot took to frantically searching every pocket he had for his cigarettes and finally found the small box; one last cigarette remained. He pulled it out between his lips and then fumbled with his matches, finally igniting the wooden stick to light end of the cigarette. Cid inhaled once deeply to get the full force of nicotine, and held his breath until he could feel the tension in his body begin to melt away. For once that night he could truly relax. It was like a breath of fresh air, a heavy weight off his shoulders and nothing, not a damn thing, would ruin it.

As Cid went to take another drag he heard a noise echo from out of the darkness. Without hesitation, he readied himself for the unknown threat lingering in front of him, but when the figure stepped far enough into the light that he could see who it was, Cid realized he had nothing to be afraid of at all and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Jesus, you scared the shit outta me, Vince," said the pilot. He'd dropped his cigarette during the scare, and… "Wait a minute, Vince?! What the hell?! Where've you been all night?"

"I arrived a bit late, but I've been around."

"When did you get here?"

"Just before Reeve made that lovely speech."

Cid shot a glance at the man feeling a bit sheepish now. "So you heard that."

"It was nice of him."

"Yeah," Cid groaned, just imagining how stupid he felt in there all by himself. That didn't seem to matter much, anyway now that he thought about it. "Well, I sure as hell ain't goin' in there again. I've had just about enough that for one night." In good company, the pilot loosened his tie now that he had no one to impress. He hadn't noticed it before either, but Vincent was also in a suit, though some details were more difficult to make out in the darkness. "You weren't planning on sticking around, were you?"

"No," the gunman replied.

"Good. Then you wanna get the hell outta here?"

Vincent smirked slightly at the suggestion, nodded and headed down the alley side by side with Cid.

- -

"_**Hold onto your hats, because here it comes…"**_

Cid nearly choked on his drink as he paused to take a breath from having been laughing so hard. He leaned over to set the bottle on the coffee table and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, continuing.

"So the whole night she keeps shooting me these looks, all while her husband—the mayor, of all people—is sitting there touching arms with her, talking to Reeve."

The gunman chuckled softly at the thought. He sat next to Cid on the small couch in the pilot's living room, both hands clasped around his drink. They'd been talking for a while now. Well, mostly Cid as Vincent remained uncharacteristically silent than usual, still listening intently about the events of the night.

"It sounds like you've had quite the evening," Vincent replied, staring down at his glass which had begun to perspire. When the mood suddenly shifted from its lighthearted chatter to sullen silence, he tensed right up, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the other man.

"Anyway, enough about that crap. Where were you tonight?"

"Working, actually."

"Working?"

"Yes. I'd felt rather guilty for abandoning my position at the WRO, and decided to take care of some unfinished business."

"Then Reeve must've known you were gonna be late."

That was true, yet he didn't want the pilot to know. He'd made it just in time, in any case.

When Cid received no answer, the room fell silent again between them, this time with a slight hint of discomfort in the air. Cid wasn't sure of what to say or do at that point now that things had taken a wrong turn somehow, somewhere…but he caught himself staring at Vincent, completely fixated on the fact that he, too, was wearing a suit. He didn't, however, notice right away that Vincent had caught him staring. The pilot pulled his glance away immediately, going red in the face.

"Sorry," Cid mumbled, attempting to come up with an explanation. "It's just I've…never seen you dressed like this before."

Vincent peered down at his clothing to take a look for himself and let out an ironic chuckle.

"It has been a while since I've worn one of these," he said, recalling the days when he was a Turk.

Their gazes met again; this time neither of them could seem to look away. Vincent knew exactly what raced through Cid's mind, and Cid knew that he knew what he was thinking—it was written all over his face for Christ's sake. He might as well have a couple guys holding him back from attacking the gunman right then and there, but Cid managed to control the budding urge. He wanted so badly to say something, to explain himself but he hadn't even done anything worth explaining…at least not yet.

Inadvertently, their knees brushed together and that was it. That was the defining factor that sent the pilot right over the edge. No longer could Cid contain himself, at least not with the way Vincent was looking at him. Without speaking a word, Cid slowly but surely closed the gap between them and to his surprise, Vincent never backed away from the advance. Albeit he wasn't doing much, he surely wasn't doing what Cid was afraid he would, and that was all the pilot cared about.

Cid's heart raced in his chest as he came close enough to feel Vincent's hot breath on his lips. There he lingered for a moment, giving the gunman a chance to hit him or pull away should he've changed his mind during the last few seconds. That didn't seem to be the case as Vincent did nothing at all, and before his brain could catch up with his body—at the go ahead—Cid pressed his lips against Vincent's.

It was a thin, tight-lipped kiss that lasted only a few measly seconds until the gunman turned his head the other way. But even as Cid felt a slight bit of disappointment drop in his chest, Vincent hadn't moved far enough to indicate he wanted to stop completely…

"We don't have to do this," Cid murmured, trying to look into his eyes.

Vincent shook his head, "No," determined to conquer whatever hesitations he harbored against doing something he so obviously wanted to do. "No, I want this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Because I—"

"_Justshutupandkissme,Highwind_," the gunman demanded. He grabbed hold of Cid's arm to steady himself and waited for Cid's response. It came swiftly, unexpectedly. If he had been standing he would've been knocked off of his feet the way Cid tackled him onto the couch pillows. The kiss now was completely different from how it began; no longer timid and reserved, but needy in away, and certainly deprived.

The pilot gasped softly into Vincent's mouth when he felt a hand press against his stomach, slipping around his waist. Before that night, Cid would never have guessed much had changed between them. Now that he had a chance to think about it, Vincent was acting a bit stranger than normal and it was starting to make some sort of weird sense—he'd been thinking about it, too.

Even though the touch came as a surprise, it was warmly welcomed with a similar response. Cid found it hard to control himself and allowed his eager hands roam free. _So far so good_, he thought while struggling over the cumbersome suit that Vincent wore. He was getting irritated. Cid wanted to feel much more than the contour of the man's body from outside the fabric; he wanted to feel Vincent's flushing skin under his hands and every thing else.

Soon, Cid broke the kiss to plant a trail down the gunman's jaw and neck. He pulled the already loosened shirt collar aside and gently suckled at the skin of Vincent's collarbone. When Vincent let out an approving moan, Cid felt a powerful tingle shoot from the pit of his stomach into his groin and right away he knew he wouldn't be able to stop for anything.

"Wait, _wait_," Vincent breathed, pushing Cid off of him. "I don't want to do this out here," he said. Having declared to himself that he wouldn't stop for anything, Cid could make an exception in this case. He didn't say much, just rose from the couch and led the way into the bedroom. The pilot kicked his shoes off beside the bed and turned to face Vincent, but nearly yelped when he spotted the gunman lunge at him, attacking with a fervor he'd never seen before.

They fell hard onto the mattress and Cid groaned at the feel of Vincent's weight pressing hard against his body. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Back in Wutai was merely a taste, but this was the full course. Cid could hardly focus on anything other than pinning Vincent to the bed and fucking his brains out right then and there, but he knew he couldn't be so forceful if they were, in fact, planning to go much further than last time. He would have to ease into this, and that was the complete opposite of what his body was telling him to do.

It was as if he'd lost time; only a few minutes ago were they fully clothed, but now Vincent was missing his blazer and belt and Cid as well. He sat upright with Vincent straddling his lap, working frantically at the buttons on his shirt, though with not much luck.

"I'm 'bout to tear this thing open," Cid grumbled, much too excited to calm himself down. Vincent just smiled and took to undoing the buttons himself. The shirt hung open as he finished, inviting Cid inside. Now he could feel what he'd been aching to touch for so long. Just as he imagined it would be, Vincent's skin burned under his trembling hands, but that was simply not enough at this point. Cid took to ravaging a sensitive spot just below the gunman's right nipple. He felt a slight jerk at the feel of the tip of his tongue making small circles, and then looked up to see Vincent biting his lower lip as though to keep from crying out too loud.

Just the expressions Vincent made were enough to throw Cid over the edge. He'd become terribly uncomfortable in what remained of his outfit; the crotch of his trousers bulged, aching to be freed. But Cid wasn't entirely sure if he could go that far just yet; he wanted to leave Vincent in charge of how fast the situation would progress knowing there'd been some hesitation at first. Except, Vincent had been a little hesitant to move things forward on his own, though it seemed he responded well to a bit of encouragement. He took his chances by snaking one hand in between their bodies, hooked one finger into the hem of Vincent's pants and tugged at the zipper suggestively. When the gesture was met with a slight thrust of the hips, Cid grabbed the man by his waist and threw him onto his back.

He couldn't tell if Vincent was blushing because he was embarrassed, or whether it was from the physically demanding activity, but as Cid gazed down upon the gunman lying on his back with his legs raised and knees pressing together, it was almost too much to bear.

"Jesus, Vince," the pilot groaned, collapsing on top of him.

"What?"

"I want you so bad…"

Cid felt the rise and fall of Vincent's stomach as he chuckled softly at the comment. He lifted his head, wondering why Vincent felt the need to laugh, but soon realized that he might've came off sounding a bit whiny.

"Is it okay?"

Both men knew what the next step would entail, but even though the gunman seemed just as enthusiastic about it as he did, by the feel of Vincent's protuberance that poked against his stomach, Cid wanted to make sure he was ready and willing to accept.

Vincent laid his head back in the pillows and stared at the ceiling. He placed one hand on the back of Cid's head to gently stroke that short blond hair, carefully weighing the consequences of what he would be agreeing to. "Yeah," he said softly; his voice filled with confidence. Suddenly, Cid pushed upright and, after removing his shirt which was nearly coming off anyway, excused himself to the bathroom for a moment. Upon his return, Cid found the gunman where he'd left him, waiting with a curious twinkle in his eyes. He set the small bottle of unlabeled clear liquid on the nightstand without a word, but Vincent knew what it was, along with a couple condoms.

Cid slid back onto the mattress next to Vincent and brushed a lock of black hair from his shoulder.

"You know this is gonna hurt, right…?"

Vincent simply sighed and rolled his eyes. "Do _you_ not want to do this?" He knew the answer, of course; though it was more of a rhetorical question—it seemed to do the trick. They'd passed the point of no return and were about to move to the next level. All Cid wanted to do was be sure. Vincent had made it clear from the beginning whether he was certain about it or not. They weren't in the same position they'd been the first time. Things were different now. And the more the pilot stalled, the more he realized he'd be the hesitant one instead.

Everything seemed to flow together nicely from that moment on. Picking up where they left off, Cid continued to kiss the gunman on any bare surface he could and his heart fluttered the way Vincent writhed beneath him. Not to mention the noises that escaped his throat; muffled yet audible enough to drive Cid insane.

Vincent gasped and glanced down at Cid when he placed a kiss on his stomach, just above the belly button. From there, and with the tip of his tongue, Cid left a trail down to the gunner's hip bone protruding slightly from under the skin. Cid pecked it softly with his lips and looked up to find Vincent staring at him with a slight frown; his eyes screamed _more_ and Cid did not deny him of it. With one hand, the pilot took hold of Vincent's erection and dragged his tongue along the shaft. The gunman went rigid at this and he let his head fall back into the pillow. Already, Cid could tell that he would be moving onto something else, and then righted himself so that he could grab the small bottle from the nightstand as quickly as possible.

The base still in his grip and stiffening even more, Cid let go knowing that it would stand on its own to gently cup his balls. Vincent stifled a whimper, spreading his legs open even further but resisted the urge to force his hips off the mattress. He didn't want to end up choking the pilot, after all. Cid seemed to pick up on this resistance and went from licking to sucking now, engulfing the entirety of the head in his mouth. Amazingly enough, Vincent shot upright and startled the pilot. He couldn't take it any longer. He wanted it now.

"Please, Cid…"

No questions were asked as Cid reached to grab the small bottle and one of the packages next to it. He quickly tore it open, balanced on his knees as Vincent watched with impatiently, and tried his best to get the condom on without any problems. More than ready, Vincent lay back down with the pilot in between his legs and watched as Cid generously coated his finger. He didn't even bother to place it back on the nightstand, but threw the bottle next to him for easy reach.

Vincent tried his best to relax even though he knew what was coming next. He felt the tip of Cid's finger press against his entrance, and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the digit push deeper. To his surprise, it went in without much resistance, but his initial reaction was rather odd. It felt wrong to him, though he knew to expect it, until Cid had reached the hilt and pulled back only to force it in again. After a few peculiar, slightly painful thrusts they began to feel good and all he wanted was more.

Then there was a second finger, and somehow a third. This time the tingling sensation that pained him remained, though it was nothing he couldn't handle; not as bad as some other pain he'd felt in the past.

"_Now_," he said and Cid slipped his fingers out. He seemed to get the hint and grabbed the bottle again, only to coat the condom instead. Cid lifted Vincent's legs and scooted closer, positioning himself so as to make the final step in one easy move. Bright blue eyes met burning red and then Vincent felt the pressure again. He felt it ease in like Cid's fingers had, but it kept going this time and seemed like it would never stop. The pain was blinding at first and took his breath away. Vincent couldn't even manage a gasp until he felt that Cid had stopped and was leaning over him.

"You okay?" the pilot asked breathily.

He had to think about it for a moment as the fierce ache began to dwindle. When his head cleared enough that he could manage a coherent thought, he felt himself trying to move on his own.

Vincent nodded in reply after remembering he hadn't answered Cid's question, and was met with a hot, wet kiss. By then, Cid had gotten the hint and began to, although slowly at first, pump in and out at a steady pace. He was panting now and had grabbed a handful of bed sheets to find some sort of stability as the pilot drove into him even harder. Cid had grabbed his waist for more leverage, and was even pulling Vincent into him while he thrust back and forth. There was no way Vincent could keep quiet now. He cried out loudly, half thankful for the privacy they had but more focused on the fact that, every time their damp skin slapped together, it pushed him even closer to the edge.

He could even tell that Cid was nearing his limit as well, the way the pilot jerked involuntarily in addition to his own controlled movements; just a few more thrusts and they would be done for.

Repositioning himself from having slid back at the force of Cid's thrusts, Vincent propped himself upright on one elbow to keep from moving. He couldn't take much more of it, and grasped his neglected erection to help finish the job.

His breathing labored, Cid watched with excitement as he licked his dry lips. Every muscle in his body burned relentlessly, but he knew it would be over in a few seconds. He gave one last good thrust into Vincent and held tightly onto the man's thighs as he rode out his powerful release. Vincent, along with him, came as well, spurting mostly onto his abdomen and a bit on the sheets. Neither of them was able to move until Cid finally collapsed on top of the gunner in a heap of hot skin and sweat. They lay together, panting heavily, bodies searching for a normal rhythm. Exhaustion quickly set in, but even as his heart found a steady pace Cid knew he couldn't stay like that, having gone slightly soft still inside the gunman. Cid pushed himself upright and with Vincent's assistance, pulled out only to collapse right back onto the mattress.

He threw an arm over his face and thought back to how the night had begun; all the apprehension and doubt, discomfort and bad thoughts seemed like a joke now.

The only thing he ever wanted was lying right next to him, and he had it now.


	9. Chapter 9

**09**

_At 3:01 am, Vincent woke from the soundest sleep he'd had in a long time; although they'd finally passed out only two hours ago, he found himself a bit parched and in need of some water. Beside him, Cid shifted slightly yet remained asleep as Vincent sat upright. Once he was sure he hadn't roused the pilot, Vincent deftly slipped out of the covers, fetched his boxers which had been carelessly thrown across the room and padded across the wooden floors into the kitchen where he grabbed a tall glass of water. In the darkness he could hear the hum of a random car passing by on the street below; other than that, it was quiet for the most part. The water felt good as it passed through his throat, soothing the scratchiness as he swallowed. He'd been a bit embarrassed about the way Cid made him cry out, but Vincent knew he couldn't help it. Luckily, there was no one else in the general vicinity that may've heard. If he could have one bit of comfort, he could relax knowing it was still a private matter._

_Just as Vincent was about to finish off what was left in the cup, he froze in his position, leaning forward against the kitchen counter and listened for the sound that caught his attention. He had a faint idea of what it was, but the gunman wanted to make sure that he wasn't simply behind paranoid; his suspicions proved correct as a hand slid down his back and around to his stomach. When Cid pressed against his body, Vincent knew he could relax._

"_Did I wake you?"_

"_Don't worry about it," Cid hummed softly, placing his chin on Vincent's shoulder blade. Both of his hands glided over the bare skin on the gunman's hips and lower abdomen, remaining just barely above the hem of his boxer shorts._

"_You alright?" the pilot asked and pressed forward slightly into Vincent's backside. He quickly got the hint._

"_It's nothing I can't handle."_

"_Mmm…well I'm freezin' my ass off," Cid declared, slipping away as quickly as he'd come only to scurry back to the bedroom. _

_For a moment, Vincent lingered in the kitchen, but returned to the bedroom where he joined Cid under the covers. It was cold in the apartment after all; a slight chill ran through his body once the heat returned. He then shifted briefly under the covers, trying to find the best position and ended up on his side facing Cid's back._

"_I've been meaning to ask you," the pilot suddenly spoke from out of the silence. "About when you took off…" Now they were face to face, nose to nose. "Where did you go?"_

_Vincent wasn't sure when the question would pop up, but he knew it would happen sooner or later and now was the time. He hadn't exactly been preparing much for it, either, finding himself unsure of how to begin—the truth could be a good place to start; from that point on he would have to wing it._

"_I went to Kalm first to settle some business there...and then I suppose I ended up at the cave."_

_Wincing, Vincent braced himself, waiting for the moment Cid would turn livid and blow a gasket, but even as he anticipated the response, it never came._

"_To see her?"_

"_I…thought I needed to…"_

_An unnerving silence rang loudly in his ears. What would Cid say next? What would he _do_ for that matter? The endless possibilities buzzed incessantly in his mind._

"_You're gonna stay put, though…right?"_

_Amazingly enough, the situation never escalated like he thought it would, and Vincent struggled momentarily to get over the initial shock. He seemed to be content enough with the fact, unlike how the gunman figured feared otherwise. There was no need to be concerned after all._

"_Yes."_

_From under the blankets, Cid brought his hand to place on Vincent's left arm. It traced lightly over the small hairs of his upper arm, down towards the elbow and over the glove._

"_Hojo?" _

_Their eyes met briefly, Vincent nodded in reply and turned onto his other side. He could see how the gesture might come off as rude and scooted back until he could feel Cid's body pressed warmly against his back. Welcoming this affection, Cid wrapped an arm around Vincent's waist to pull him closer. They settled in that position with no need for anymore words. Soon enough, Vincent began to feel a slight tingle in his eyes. After only a few minutes he eventually gave into the exhaustion that claimed his consciousness earlier._

- -

From out of the corner of his eyes, Reeve spotted the pilot through the glass wall as he slipped through the first door to the conference room and reached for the second. He pulled away from his conversation with Vincent to greet the man who seemed to have taken notice to this shadiness, but Reeve brushed that off for the moment as they had work to do.

"You're quite early."

"Yeah, well the kids have it under control down there…"

"Then let's get started, shall we?"

Reeve moved to the head of the table while Cid took a seat and Vincent stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, behind him. A manila folder sat on the table to the pilot's side, which Reeve motioned to.

"The reason I've asked you to join us today is because we have ourselves a bit of a problem. There is a man named Leiv Jasemi who runs a business out of Costa del Sol importing and exporting a wide range of equipment for all types of vehicle; including that of airship parts. I've been in contact with Leiv for a while—about a year now—trying to get him interested in returning to the market; however, Mr. Jasemi has not yet been convinced by my pleas, which is where the problem comes into play. As you know, after the last few global threats, the economy has suffered greatly as a result; the entire industry is out of sorts and in need of some, not only guidance, but encouragement as well."

"I've heard about this guy," Cid said as he closed the folder. "But what does he have to do with me? I thought you were in charge of all the diplomatic stuff."

"Yes, well, after speaking with Mr. Jasemi, it seems I'm not the right person to be convincing him this would be a good opportunity to help jumpstart the economy. However, during our last meeting I happened to mention your name, to which he took a great interest in. He said if I could get you to come talk to him, he just might consider this proposal."

"Why me, though?"

"To be honest, I can't really answer that question. You are quite the big shot, anyway…omitting the fact that he's also had a rocky history with ShinRa. Perhaps he feels a connection to you in that sense? Either way, I've already scheduled a meeting with him for tomorrow morning."

"_Tomorrow morning_?! What the hell am I gonna say?"

"You'll be fine, Cid. Besides, he's the one who suggested this meeting. Mr. Jasemi seems to be rather optimistic about the whole thing, so it's possible you may be able to strike a deal. And if that happens, I'll take it from there."

The room fell silent as Cid took a moment to soak up the news. It didn't sound all that bad once he really thought about it. Not only that, but if his suspicions proved to be right, he wouldn't be alone in this endeavor.

"When do we leave?"

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Reeve's lips. "Later tonight, actually. There are some things I need to take care of before the meeting, so it would be better if we leave sooner rather than later."

"And I 'spose Vince is coming with us, too?"

Their eyes met across the room; that same suspicious feeling he sensed before hung heavy in the air. "For safety purposes—yes."

Rising from his chair, Cid ignored the obvious, awkward feeling, turned to face the gunman and gave him a hearty slap on the back as he headed for the door. Despite how rushed the whole thing was and how little a clue he had in mind of how things would turn out, the pilot just couldn't find it in himself to worry. "I'll see you two later tonight, then."

- -

Just moments after the ship touched down a mile from the town of Costa del Sol, the captain found himself at every beck and call his crew could shout. And as much as Cid wished he could simply drop his duties, he knew he couldn't do such a thing no matter how badly he wanted to.

Reeve, on the other hand, had little to do upon arrival and found himself wandering the ship in search of the gunman. After a brief stint up and down a few corridors, he came across the man he was looking for at the bridge, standing near the window, gazing out at the sun as it made its descent behind the sparkling blue horizon. Vincent acknowledged Reeve's presence with a glance, but quickly returned his attention to the blazing orange hue in the sky.

"I've been thinking a lot," the director began, "About our conversation before…" He paused momentarily to gather his thoughts; what he had to say would be quite difficult. "And I've come to a conclusion: I believe that it would be best if you were no longer in charge of this mission."

Vincent had a feeling it would come down to that, but even as it pained him inwardly he barely responded to the news; nothing more than a flinch.

"I know this decision may seem like drastic," Reeve sighed, feeling the need to explain, "But I just couldn't take the risk. You know I have no choice other than to protect the safety of _all_ my men."

"I understand."

"…I'm very sorry about this, Vincent. The most I can do is keep you on the team; although I don't expect to come across any trouble—it would just be too dangerous. I will not have what happened as a result of this predicament happen again. In fact, I should've made you stay in the city to get some proper rest…"

Just as the gunman was about to respond, from behind, a young man called the director from above on the catwalk. Vincent could tell by the way Reeve hesitated to leave that he wished he could give more of an explanation for this seemingly excessive decision. He'd made his point quite clear, though and there was no other way around it. Reluctantly and with a heavy remorse, Reeve excused himself, mumbling something along the lines of "we'll talk later" only to disappear into the bowels of the ship once more.

As Vincent returned his gaze to the window, he felt a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and the desire to remain in plain view no longer sounded so beguiling.

- -

_Slam!_

Cid sighed heavily as the cargo door shut behind him. He took a moment to lean against the cool metal to rest his aching back; only an hour after landing, after sunset and he was still working himself to the bone. But even as he felt like doing nothing other than maybe taking a hot shower and falling right to sleep, there was one thing he hadn't done yet.

Intent on finding Vincent, Cid climbed up the basement stairs at the butt of the ship and marched his way up to find that it had been practically deserted. Save for a few lingering crewmen, he figured everyone else must've went into town like they'd been anticipating and talking so much about on the ride over. It was a clear, cool night outside after all, but it wasn't enough to convince the pilot to join them.

Unfortunately, no one was around to ask if they'd seen Vincent anywhere, and those who were couldn't recall. It only took him a few minutes to give up when Cid decided he was much too tired to scavenge the entire ship looking for the man, and headed to the captain's room instead. When he got there and grabbed the knob he realized that the door was unlocked—strange, considering how he distinctly remembered locking it before heading out. Slowly, cautiously, Cid stepped into the room, making a brief scan through the darkness before moving in any further. Once his eyes fell upon the bed, he spotted a figure lying on its side, back facing him above the covers; unexpectedly, he'd come across just the man he was looking for.

As quietly as he could, Cid shut and locked the door behind him, and then joined the gunman on the bed. He slid in behind him, scooting close enough that he could feel Vincent's warmth, but Vincent didn't move an inch at his company.

"Been lookin' for you all over," the pilot said, picking at a piece of fabric on the back of Vincent's shirt. It was odd coming in to find the gunman completely clothed, lying on top of the bed still made; there was no way he was asleep. "You alright?"

Suddenly, Vincent turned to face Cid, propping himself on an elbow.

"There's something I need to tell you," he began with a hint of urgency in his voice.

Cid sat up as well, surprised by the slightly unnerving turn of events. He could only listen intently as Vincent wavered, unsure of how to begin.

"Earlier today, when you saw Reeve and me speaking in the office…we were discussing my position at the WRO and where I would fit into the picture now that I've returned. However, I'd failed to mention that, while I was gone, I did not make a full recovery. Although there was a significant improvement in my health, I have yet to regain my strength entirely…amongst other things."

For a moment, Cid could only gawk at the man, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, desperately wanting to say something, yet unable to speak as his mind stumbled over the many things he wanted to say.

"…I thought I should be the one to tell you before you found out from someone else."

"Wait a minute," Cid interrupted. He frowned and shook his head. "Then what the hell were you two talking about?"

"Due to my condition, I've been demoted. Reeve has decided that it would be best if I am no longer in control of this mission, or any future ones for that matter…"

"God, Vince," the pilot sighed and dropped his head against Vincent's chest; a pathetic snigger sounded muffled by the fabric of Vincent's shirt. "You gotta stop doing this to me." Cid was so tired. It felt incredibly good to be masked in the warmth that radiated from the gunman; he just about gave into the urge to pass out right there. He felt a hand caress the back of his head; fingers combed through his hair and Cid couldn't hold back the throaty groan that escaped him.

He muttered something again, inaudible for the most part; thoroughly jaded from the day's events and wrapped an arm around Vincent's waist, pulling the gunner even closer. Not one minute passed where Cid could manage to keep his eyes open, or keep his grasp on consciousness for that matter. Within but a few moments, the pilot's grasp slowly loosened. His weight fell heavy against Vincent's body, slipping slightly back onto the mattress. Falling asleep in Vincent's arms was beyond what he could ask for, even if he wouldn't be aware of the fact for the most part.


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

It was their second big success and counting. Cid couldn't have made a better impression on the client if he tried; the requests were flowing in at an unstoppable force with only blue skies ahead. Considering how much hard work it took to get to that point, it was a welcome gesture the director would do anything to keep alive and thriving, but first things first.

They returned to Edge after the meeting in Costa del Sol, and by the time Cid realized, a week had already flown by since that day. And in that week, so many things had changed. Vincent found himself at the pilot's house more often than not; typically lounging around now that he was willingly working on opening up a bit more to the idea of the two of them together. Cid even gave him a spare key to make it easier to get inside if he wasn't there. It felt nice to come home to find Vincent fresh out of the shower or napping in the bedroom; something he could definitely get used to.

The pilot's house also served as a place where Vincent could truly relax; as a result of his relegation, he would need a somewhere to act as a safe haven for his recovery efforts.

"_Make yourself at home,"_ Cid told him. He would do just that.

The day began like any other, coming to a close like it had been recently—without Cid around. Due to an increasing demand of work, the pilot usually strolled in after sundown, exhausted from being on his feet from morning until night. Even as his stomach growled, Vincent thought it would be nice to whip up something quick and easy, not only for himself but for when Cid finally got home. In the kitchen cupboards he found a box of spaghetti, sounding easy enough for someone who wasn't much of a chef. To his surprised, it turned out better than anticipated.

Just as the gunman rose from his seat with empty plate in hand, a set of knocks sounded softly on the front door causing Vincent to freeze in his tracks. _That's odd._ It couldn't be Cid considering this was his house, and surely he wasn't expecting anyone without mentioning it. Instead of heading to the sink where he would wash off the dinnerware, Vincent set his plate on the counter, wiped a bit of sauce off of his finger with a dish towel and quickly answered the door.

In front of him stood a young woman, somewhere in her mid-20s, blonde hair with a well-endowed body, but most importantly…a young woman he'd never seen before.

"Oh…this is Cid Highwind's place, right?" She seemed confused enough; however, the fact that she knew Cid's name did not do much to settle Vincent's suspicion.

With a slight frown, feeling a sudden territorial rage pulsate within him, Vincent replied. "Yes, it is."

"He's not home by any chance…?"

"No, he's not."

"Ah, okay," the woman replied. She drew her gaze to the floor in disappointment, but shrugged it off quickly. "Well, my name is Cherri. Hopefully he'll remember who I am, but it's been a while since we've spoken."

Still towering over her in the doorway, Vincent kept the door cracked enough that she could see that he was there and him only; the woman never once bothered to look over his shoulder, though.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to tell him?"

"Just that I stopped by to see how he was doing, but I don't want to disturb him or anything."

It was a struggle, but the gunman managed to resist the urge to slam the door in her face. He would have to remain calm and composed. Whoever the woman was, he certainly didn't know her and all he had to rely on was the slight possibility she was no one important.

"I'll give him the message…"

She flashed him a quick smile before disappearing down the hall. When Vincent finally shut the door, he leaned against the hard wood, wondering why he seemed to be so affected by this. It made no sense whatsoever; even the fact that she said it had been a while since she'd heard from Cid didn't seem to convince him he was merely overreacting. So desperately did Vincent want to believe it was a matter he had complete control over, but the doubts only lingered—no, they _grew_ worse and worse as each minute passed.

Soon, there was nothing else in his mind but a horde of bad thoughts; every worst possible explanation he could think of seemed much more plausible than the next, and worst of all, there was no way to disprove them; not until the one man that could answer his questions walked in through that door.

- -

After what seemed like forever, Cid sighed when he spotted his building in the distance. Home, finally.

Waltzing into the apartment, he tossed his keys on the small stand near the door and shrugged his jacket off to throw over the back of a chair in the dining area. Upon closer inspection, from the entryway, he could hear the soft hum of the television in the background—Vincent was there. He smirked softly at the thought as he passed the kitchen archway, picking up the scent of pasta that lingered in the air. He was hungry, no doubt, but the desire to lay his eyes upon the gunman easily conquered the rumble in his stomach.

Into the living room, Cid spotted Vincent sitting on the couch, leaning back into the cushions as he surfed through the channels. Vincent barely acknowledged the other man's presence; not like usual, but it didn't strike Cid as odd right off the bat. To his left, on the counter, the mail sat in a neat pile which he picked up to sift through. Vincent, on the other hand, said nothing at all.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," Cid said with a yawn. "Got held up in a meeting over funding for the development of the flight program, _again_." True, they had been having difficulties at work recently, but that had nothing to do with the unspoken issue at hand. Vincent was bursting at the seams, could hardly take the silence anymore; he needed to say something, and needed to say it _now._

Slowly rising from the couch, Vincent approached the pilot from behind, keeping a respectable distance between them. "Someone stopped by earlier," he began, innocent at first to keep the mood light.

When their eyes met, Vincent could see that Cid still had no idea. Of course not—why would he?

"Oh yeah? Who was it?"

Vincent swallowed the thick lump down his throat and sucked in a deep breath of air before replying.

"A woman; said her name was Cherri…"

He hadn't expected such a reaction, or rather, hoped things wouldn't turn out that way. At the sound of her name, Cid dropped the envelopes he held in his hand onto the floor; they scattered all around his feet. Even his eyes were like a deer in headlights, too shocked to say anything at first, still struggling against the wave of nerves that knocked him off his feet. It was all the answer Vincent needed, and the one thing that persuaded him to walk out that door.

Without even bothering to stick around for an explanation, Vincent brushed passed the pilot, deliberately avoiding eye contact as he found it much too difficult to look into those eyes.

"Wait, Vince!" Cid shouted, wasting no time to chase after him. They made it to the entryway where Cid grabbed Vincent tightly by the wrist, physically holding him back from grabbing the knob on the front door. "It's not what you think."

Vincent shot a ferocious glare over his shoulder, one that pierced through his soul with a white hot fire that burned relentlessly, determined. He'd never seen the gunman look like that before; not in his direction, at least. Again, Vincent struggled in Cid's tight grasp, heaving his body backwards, so desperate to get out of there and as far away as possible.

"Would you just _listen_ to me?!" the pilot growled, giving one last desperate yank. It backfired, however, when Vincent let his weight fall forward and slipped his wrist easily out of the hold. With a loud bang, Cid's back slammed hard against the wall and he slid to the floor in a hazy stupor.

Vincent wasn't entirely certain why he hesitated to leave now that he was free—perhaps to make sure that Cid hadn't been severely injured by the undoubtedly painful collision, but when the pilot groaned and brought a hand to massage the back of his head, their gazes met for the last time. Vincent gnawed anxiously on his bottom lip, brow furrowed as far as it could go. He'd had quite enough already and spun on his heels to march out the front door.


	11. Chapter 11

**Cid**

_I thought I would do something different…_

I can't believe this…

How could I be so _stupid_?!

To think that everything was going just fine…I should've known better.

Now I have no idea what to do. This is a mess—a complete and utter failure.

"Cid_… Cid_!"

I hadn't heard Reeve calling my name until he was forced to raise his voice to get my attention. When I finally acknowledged this, I could tell by the look on his face that he was at his wits end; not only with me, but with the entirety of this project.

"Do you have the papers?" he asked, a bit more calmly now.

Crushed under my elbow was a folder with the documents he wanted, which I quickly grabbed and handed to him, feeling like a complete jackass after having spaced out during the middle of a meeting. And it wasn't as if I was the only other person there. No, there were a handful of executives gathered around the table as well. I'd managed to keep it together for the most part until the end, at least, and although it was obvious everyone felt a little uncomfortable about what'd happened, they happily ignored the fact, brushing it off without a second guess.

As soon as everyone dispersed from the room room, me being one of the last to walk out, Reeve grabbed and pulled me to the side to carry on with the interrogation he couldn't do in front of those men.

He leaned in closely so he wouldn't have to make much of a scene to spat through clenched teeth, "Are you going to tell me why you just spaced out during our meeting?"

It would be unfair of me not to give him some sort of explanation, but the fact that it was a situation in need of more privacy than the middle of a conference room, as well as not knowing where to begin in the first place, made it that much harder for me to blurt out an answer. Instead, I hesitated and nervously dropped my gaze to the floor, which only made things worse.

"I see," Reeve sighed. "Well, then let's forget about it. As much as I hate to say this, I am entirely too busy to be concerned right now, so I would appreciate it if you left your personal problems at home and _focus on your work instead_."

I'd never seen the guy so nerve wracked before, but I couldn't blame him for it. He had a point, after all, and a business to run.

When the director turned to join the other men, I headed for the door to get out of there was fast as I could and distract myself for the rest of the day with work. As soon as my hand reached for the knob, it turned on its own and the door swung open. In front of me stood Vincent who didn't seem all that excited to cross paths; the look on his face was exactly like the one he'd given me the night before… He never said a word, just slipped passed me as if I wasn't even there.

I wanted to say so much to him, too, wanted to grab him and pull him aside and force him to listen to me. There was no hope in the matter, however; the only thing I could do was silently slip out into the hall before the situation between us could get any worse.

- -

Seeing as how Vincent wouldn't be there when I got home, I decided there was no point in leaving when everyone else did and stayed a couple hours later to busy myself with work. When I realized it was nearing 9:00 o'clock in the evening, and not even the janitors were there, that's when I called it quits. It only took me a brief moment to shut everything down, close my office and head to the basement. On the way to my car, just as I pulled my keys out, ready to open the door, from the corner of my eyes I spotted a familiar figure across the way headed in the opposite direction—Vincent, who'd stayed late himself.

I wasn't sure if he'd noticed me, although it was hard to believe seeing as how we were the only ones in the parking garage, but the urge I fought so hard to suppress sprang up like lava pouring out of a volcano. I couldn't control it. My body acted before my brain and I was already on the path towards his vehicle at a quick pace. He was inside with the idling car when I got there, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as he watched from behind the windshield.

"Get out," I said, standing in front of the hood to block his path. I knew he heard me well enough, but the gunman didn't do anything at first, so I waited.

"I'm not gonna move, Vincent. You'll have to hit me first!"

To my surprise, I thought I spotted a gleam in his eye that read a little too much like he was considering the idea. The car never moved, though, and my rising blood pressure began to lower when he opened the door to step out. Rounding the hood at a quick stride, he easily towered me with his presence and piercing gaze. I hadn't felt so small before; not since the days when my mother scolded me for getting into mischief. But I couldn't just back away now that I had his attention. I would have to suck it up, take a deep breath and let it go.

"I'm an idiot!" I shouted; though that wasn't what I really wanted to begin with—it was a start. "It's exactly what you think; though maybe only so far as that thick skull of yours'll let you understand. I met her the day we came back to Edge and admitted you to the hospital. I was devastated about everything, how fast it all happened, and I didn't know what to think. After all I'd done for you, after everything we'd been through, I was confused. So I made a stupid decision to solve my problems at a bar." I paused briefly to gather my thoughts and catch my breath. He didn't seem as upset as he was a few moments ago, which was good, but there was still the matter of finishing. "Then I began to think about it… I figured everything I'd done had just been a waste of time and effort and I needed to get my mind off it."

"Did you sleep with her?" he asked. I didn't expect him to blurt it out so frankly, but if giving him a direct answer would help in the least bit to move things along I'd tell him the truth.

"Yeah," I confessed, huffing loudly. It was what he expected to hear, that's for sure, but was just as painful to have his suspicions confirmed judging by the pained look on his face. "But how was I supposed to know we'd end up like this? You put me in a position I didn't want to be in, and I was trying to find a way out! Yeah, I'll admit it wasn't the greatest decision, but hell, when you came back, I completely forgot about her. I dropped everything—_again—_and it was _all for you!_"

Silence shrouded the basement again, heavier this time as we stood there staring at each other in front of his still idling car. No longer did Vincent have that fire burning behind his eyes, but rather, a pitiful gleam of sorrow.

"I'm sorry," Vincent finally replied in a murmur, but it wasn't the kind of sorry I wanted to hear. He pulled his gaze away from mine, forewarning his intent to leave. "I can't…"

When he turned away from me, I wanted so much to reach out for him. What happened as a result of doing that last time is what convinced me not to.

"Please don't do this," I begged, stepping towards him, yet kept a respectable distance.

Vincent opened the car door and paused for a moment as though he had something else to say. I waited with only the least bit of hope, wondering if maybe he'd change his mind and accept my confession; no such luck. He simply fell into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut and threw the car into gear as I stepped aside to let him by.

The car disappeared around a corner, echoes of the tires squealed loudly on the slick pavement. And there I stood in the darkened, deserted garage, alone.

I thought I had no idea what to do before, but I was so very wrong.

- -

A heavy rain showered the entire city, thick droplets splashed onto the windshield at an unstoppable rate. Even as the wipers whipped back and forth, they didn't help much to clear a visible path; the rain in front of the car, visible by headlight, posed just as much a problem.

He was probably driving too fast for the weather condition, but he didn't care. Hands still gripped the steering wheel, knuckles a pale white, he didn't know where he was going—not to his own place, that was for sure—or what he would do when he got there. Just that he needed to get away from that place.


	12. Chapter 12

**12**

Two days—nothing's changed.

"_We'll be transferring half of the East division to two new bases; one in Junon and the other in Costa del Sol. Operations will remain minimal in both locations for the time being; however, it is pertinent that I have all hands on board. Everyone needs to lend their assistance to this mission. Cid, affective immediately, you'll be transporting equipment and personnel to the Middle continent. Until I see a progress report, the trip to Junon will be scheduled at a later date. As it stands now, the duration of this operation remains undetermined with a week stay at minimum. Once we've got the ball rolling it will become easier to plan a return date with the current status of the mission in mind. If there are no further comments or questions, then the meeting is adjourned."_

He didn't really want to go to the bar with how little time he had to pack for the mission, but Cid would rather pick his package up before leaving than to have it shipped to him later. Or at least that's how Tifa managed to convince him to come with the way she made it sound over the phone. He arrived at the peak of happy hour, so the bar was quite lively, and Tifa stood behind the counter with a smile on her face as she watched him walk in.

"You look exhausted…"

"Thanks," the pilot grumbled. Not even a sarcastic comment could brighten up his day.

"Why don't you sit down, take a load off?"

"Nah, I really better get home to pack—"

"Nonsense, you could use one drink. What'll it be, the usual?"

Cid sighed heavily and weighed his options in putting up a fight. He just didn't seem up for losing today, and instead, slid onto one of the empty stools in front of him as he waited for his drink.

"So, do you know how long you'll be gone? Yuffie says it might be for a while."

"No idea," he replied. Tifa set the glass of amber liquid in front of him and he grabbed it immediately, taking one big gulp.

"That's a bummer. That means Yuffie will be gone as well and I'll have no one to bother me. The kids are with Elmyra and Cloud's got himself a lot of work. It'll be quiet here except for the customers."

Without an answer, Cid finished off his drink before he could even realize. Tifa, however, took notice as she watched him wipe the excess liquid off his mouth with the back of his hand. It had become too much of a concern for her to simply brush the observation aside before missing the chance to bring it up before it was too late. There was something wrong with him and she was going to find out.

"Anyway," Tifa began, casually wiping the counter in front of him. "Since you've be gone, ;beI wanted to ask you how you've been doing these last few weeks. We left Wutai on such a short note and I've only seen you once between then and now." Her eyes darted up to meet his; he was staring at her with a wary twinkle in his eyes having caught onto her curious overtone. "And I noticed that you seem a little down… Are you alright?"

At that point he was beyond regretting having agreed to stay, not wanting to talk about this at all, but he had no choice now that things were out in the open. It would come around to him someway or another.

"I'm worried about you, Cid."

"What's to worry about? M'fine."

"I can see right through you."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with me," he insisted.

"Come on. I just want to make sure you're alright. Is it so bad to be concerned for a friend?" How familiar that sounded.

"Really, it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!"

Despite her assertiveness, Cid couldn't let it get to him; even over the roar of the crowded bar he leaned towards her to growl a few words of warning. "I don't want to talk about this."

What she said next, however, caught him completely off guard.

"Is it about Vincent?"

Just as Cid was about to stand from the stool he froze in complete shock at how spot on she'd been. Where she got the idea, though, was beyond him.

"It is, isn't it?"

He couldn't find it in himself to reply, or even utter a peep. All he could do was listen as Tifa attempted to explain herself.

"I've had this feeling about you guys. There was always something about you two."

By then he'd gone red in the face. It was way too obvious to hide his reaction, to cover up his tracks and he immediately fell into a defense mode. "Well it seems like you've got it all figured out, so let's drop it?"

"Then I'm right?"

"About _what?_" he snapped.

"You and Vin—" It was not Cid who found himself taken aback this time, but Tifa instead having come to such a sudden realization. She gasped loudly and threw a hand over her mouth. If just the act of verbally communicating her thoughts brought about such an epiphany, he could only imagine what she would grill out of him had he actually been willing to talk. "Oh my God…"

"Would you keep it down?" the pilot hissed.

"I can't believe I never realized…"

"Look, if you're gonna make a big deal out of this," Cid began, fed up with the interrogation and ready to go home, finally stood from the stool to say, "Then I've got work to finish."

"No!" she yelped, rushing out from behind the counter to stop him. "I'm sorry, Cid! I was just shocked, that's all." Tifa stood in front of him, gazing up in his blazing blue eyes out from under his brow knit with frustration. How could he stay mad at a face like that? He didn't seem to have it in him; that was for sure. But he was going to leave the bar before long despite what her protests.

"I know it's none of my business, but the _both_ of you are my friends. You've always been really close to each other; everyone could see that. And I may not know the specifics, but whatever is wrong I'm sure everything will turn out to be okay in the end."

As much as he could not bring himself to believe those words of encouragement, the gesture was certainly—yet halfhearted—appreciated. Cid certainly did not hold the same optimism as the young woman (then again, she wasn't in his position), so it was difficult to stand there in front of her looking and feeling so vulnerable. He wanted to leave, wanted to forget anything had ever happened and get on with his life.

"I know you have to go," she said with a smile. "Can I at least give you a hug?"

Cid didn't think she could make the situation any worse, but lo and behold, she'd just outdone herself. Tifa stood with her arms open wide, that stupid grin on her face, waiting for permission to embrace him, but he was already in as deep as he could go.

When the pilot gave no answer, Tifa took it as the go-ahead to wrap her arms around him and squeeze tightly. He rested his chin on the top of her head and even let his eyes slowly close. For how much he was against the idea, Cid had to admit it felt kinda nice; not in any sort of intimate manner, but there was a certain comfort he felt from the fact that she was truly concerned.

They finally pulled apart a few moments later when he noticed the bar was getting a bit more crowded, and she now had no excuse to hold him captive as Cid needed to go. He turned away from her, headed for the door but just before he could step outside, she added one more thing.

"Keep your chin up! "


	13. Chapter 13

**13**

The big metal door slammed shut behind her with a thunderous crack and Yuffie huffed angrily, placing her hands on her hips. "Where the hell is that old bastard?" she barked, standing on the edge of the bridge to get a good look over the main floor of the ship. From under a furrowed brown her eyes scanned the open area on a desperate search for the pilot, but he seemed to be no where in sight. Instead, she spotted one of the veteran crewmen.

Yuffie called out to him, bounding down the stairs. "Hey Danny!" He glanced over his shoulder at her though only for a brief second before returning his attention back to what was in front of him.

"Hey," he replied.

"Have you seen Cid anywhere? I've been looking all over for him, but it's like he's disappeared off the face of the planet!"

"Yeah," Danny sighed. He was crouching down over a panel in the floorboard and working up quite the sweat, too. But he would hold off on finishing his job for a moment to speak with Yuffie. She'd find out sooner or later anyway, and he certainly didn't want it to result in a screaming match. "The captain's locked himself in his quarters and said he doesn't want anyone to disturb him. He said, "don't bother me or I'll…" A familiar stream of nasty words came out of the young man's mouth. It certainly sounded like Cid.

"What the hell is his problem lately, anyway?" Yuffie scoffed, folding her hands across her chest. "He's been acting weird for a while now an' it's really getting on my nerves!"

"You probably shouldn't bother him, in any case. I can pass on a message, though, when those parts get in."

"Nah, don't worry about it," the ninja sighed. "Looks like you've got your hands full enough already. I'll just wait until he decides to come out on his own." There wasn't much the crewman could do for her as she'd already made quite clear, but even then it seemed as though anyone had little control over the situation other than captain.

He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, not even the least bit tired; enough to convince his mind it was time to stop racing over every last thought. Vincent shifted from his back onto his side and faced the door, staring at the wall shrouded in darkness now as an alternative to the ceiling. That was it. There was no point in forcing himself to sleep if he couldn't do it. Too many thoughts, memories and potential scenarios ran through his mind, and the last thing he was going to do that night was get some sleep. Instead of lying restless in bed, he threw his legs over the edge of the mattress and let his bare feet touch the cold wooden floor below. He ran a hand through his tousled black hair before standing upright, and went straight for the closet.

Vincent wasn't entirely sure of what he was going to do about not being able to sleep, but he knew he couldn't stay at his place much longer. It was just so _wrong_. He hadn't been there for quite some time in the passed few weeks and not it just felt slightly odd being alone there again; ironic, he thought, considering his past.

Dressed now to some extent—presentable enough, at least—he grabbed a jacket, his keys and left the apartment at 3:45 AM. It was still dark outside and the city was deserted for the most part; that silence just before the morning rush. He took the stairs to the basement quickly and strode across the parking garage towards his car. Out on the road, Vincent started out aimlessly at first. But after a good ten minutes passed he found himself in a neighborhood that looked awfully familiar. Soon, the building he'd been to so many times before became visible in the headlights. He pulled his car right outside the front and did not hesitate to get out.

Into the front entrance and up the first set of stairs, he stepped into the hall through the stairwell doorway. Without thinking, he shoved his right hand into his pocket and pulled out the key ring, flipping through them to find the one that would unlock the door. When he finally found it, he opened it quickly only to be greeted by a bitter gust of wind.

_That's right_, he thought, remembering Cid hadn't even been there for a while. It was dark inside, but Vincent didn't bother turning on the light as he came into the entrance. He shut the front door softly behind him, locked it and stepped in further towards the living room. The first thing he noticed was the pilot's scent. It wouldn't be very distinct to anyone else, but he knew that smell like the back of his hand. Bypassing the living room, Vincent moved to the bedroom where the aroma began to overwhelm his senses, making it even more difficult for him to breathe properly.

_Calm down,_ Vincent told himself as he closed his eyes briefly to find some sort of stable plane within his mind. He then proceeded to the bed where he sat on the edge of the mattress, immediately remembering the man times he felt its firmness. It hurt a bit to remember such things, but the gunman could hardly control the thoughts that flooded his mind. The more he tried to control them, the more defiant they seemed to get; so he wouldn't.

Vincent shrugged his jacket off, draped it at the end of the bed and then went for his shoes, which he easily kicked off. He didn't bother to pull back the covers, and instead, lay on top of them in the chilly, slightly stale air that circulated through the apartment. As if on cue, he felt a slight tingle and his eyelids grew heavy with sleep. It wouldn't make much sense to be there without Cid's knowledge, especially after what had happened between them only a few days earlier. Now that he had time to think about it, he couldn't help but admit the feelings he once felt were no longer that of anger and jealousy, but rather, guilt and regret. They'd both made some foolish mistakes, Vincent admitted, except now there was no one there to listen to his confession.

Vincent heaved a sigh and threw his arms over his head at the thought. He knew in his heart he couldn't allow for this to go on much more, and that he could no longer postpone what needed to be done. Despite whether he was ready to put those lingering feelings aside, regardless of the fact that he had no idea what he was doing to do or say when he looked the pilot in the eyes, he had only one other choice; a choice he simply wouldn't settle for.

It would take him some quick thinking, but Vincent had to get to Costa del Sol and _fast_.

The day passed quickly to Cid's surprise, though it had been filled with meetings, shouting orders and loads of paperwork. He found himself back in his quarters on the near empty ship again, after most everyone decided to bunk in town at the Inn. They would be there for some time, after all. It only made sense to find a more comfortable means of shacking up for the week, which the airship could only provide to an extent. Cid was used to it, however, and much preferred to be with his ship if he had a choice; not considering the fact that the captain's quarters had been purposefully built a tad bit more comfortable as it came with the title.

Physically he was exhausted, but even as work managed to hold his attention for a while, there was one thing he could not forget. It ate away at him, still fresh in the back of his mind and showed no signs of alleviation any time soon. The thoughts were now more so along the lines of concern for the future, what might or might not happen between him and Vincent. If only things could have come about differently… _No_, Cid told himself. The fact of the matter was that it hadn't and he had to deal with the situation _as is_. What bothered him the most was that dreadful time where all he could do was wait. And he had already let it get to him enough that it distracted from his work. He couldn't do it anymore, could not allow for his personal matters to interfere again, not if he had any control over it.

No matter what faced him in the coming days, Cid could not deny the fact that he was physically exhausted. He dragged himself across the room where he collapsed onto his bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress to pry his boots off. Without bothering to fully undress, Cid simply crawled towards the pillows where he laid his head down. It felt good to say the least as he closed his weary eyes; sleep was not far off.

Just as anticipated, Cid began to drift off only a few moments after settling into bed. And at two in the morning, he thought he just might finally get some sleep until a set of soft knocks sounded at the door. Cid sprang upright out of a light slumber, slightly disoriented at first by the unexpected interruption. He didn't remain that way, however, and found himself irritated to have to deal with whoever was standing outside his door. They would get an earful if it he had the last word.

The pilot pushed himself off the mattress, headed for the door as he gave his guest a fair warning. "Somethin' better be on fire!" His hand went to grab the knob and then he pulled the door open, thinking it was probably one of the crewmen with some more work, but to his surprise, it was not. Vincent stood there staring at him with a look in his eyes that Cid couldn't quite place. And when he tried to speak the words were not there.

It was Vincent who had to break the awkward silence.

"Can I come in?"

As if he'd been hit with a bag of bricks, Cid snapped out of a daze and stepped aside to let the gunman through. He shut the door quickly behind them, locking it as well, though he knew no one would have enough guts to simply walk in; not unless they wanted to sport a black eye.

The room was silent for a moment as Cid turned to face the gunman who stood with his back to the pilot. He'd stopped at the desk and was leaning his weight forward, head dropped, eyes gazing down at the paperwork scattered about. He'd never really noticed that Cid's handwriting, when it needed to be legible, was rather elegant…

"I think," he began, finally turning to face Cid who waited silently, patiently for an explanation. "I think I owe you an apology…"

"Vince…"

The gunman shook his head and interrupted. "Just listen to me," he said, pausing for a brief moment to gather his thoughts. "This…all of this…. It's gotten out of hand. My reaction was uncalled for. If I had just been clearer about my feelings from the beginning, then none of this would have happened."

Vincent stood there silently having put himself out there so far across the line, but no matter how hard he tried, Cid could not get over the fact that Vincent was actually _there,_ standing in front of his own two eyes. He couldn't fight back the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I can't believe you came all this way…"

Vincent simply shrugged in reply. "I couldn't sleep," he said, huffing through his nose a laugh of uncertainty. It was 2:30 in the morning and after such a long journey he was exhausted not only from that, but not having gotten any sleep before as well.

Cid approached him and reached out to hook his fingers around Vincent's gloved hand. He felt ridiculous standing there with such hesitation after the gunman had just waltzed right in to apologize for something that wasn't even his fault. Surely, Vincent felt some sort of shame, too. But no matter what he was feeling, all Cid wanted to do was take the man into his arms again.

There were no signs that thwarted him off the idea, and Cid embraced Vincent tightly at first. It had only been a few days since they'd last seen each other, though longer since he was actually able to touch him. It felt amazing, beyond words capable of accurately describing the electricity that coursed through his body, and the best thing about it was that Vincent had returned the gesture.

"So you're not mad at me?" Cid asked in a meek voice with his face nuzzled in between the crook of the gunman's neck.

"No," Vincent replied with a soft chuckle. He pet the back of Cid's hair, inhaling the man's scent.

"You gotta be tired…"

"…I'm the one who woke you."

"Jus' barely drifted off," replied Cid, who stifled a powerful yawn as he pulled out of the embrace. "As much as I'd like to throw you down on that bed and have my way with you, I think maybe we should get some sleep. You're the one who needs it more than I do." Taking Vincent's hand, Cid led them to the bed where he crawled onto the mattress first and watched as Vincent removed his jacket and boots. It was a rare sight to see the gunner in plain clothes, but being the lucky one so intimate with him, Cid had gotten used to it by then.

With the bulk of his clothing removed, Vincent slipped under the blanket onto his side as Cid scooted in behind him. Like some miracle to cure his ail, Vincent found that he could barely keep his eyes open lying there in the dark with Cid pressed against his back, feeling the warmth of the pilot radiating through him.

Before completely falling to sleep, it occurred to him how quickly their situation had changed. It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered. Just that he could find it in himself to accept some of the blame, forgive and forget was enough that he could rest easy.

The thought was lost quickly, and Vincent simply could no longer stay awake. The gentle sound of Cid breathing against his neck; the way his chest rose and fell lulled him to sleep, and for the first time in days, it would be good.


End file.
